Trust Ch. 12

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Is this the ultimate plimsoll fetish sex fantasy?
10.2k words
13.9k
1

Part 13 of the 13 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 06/07/2009
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Chapter 11 -- Happy families

It was fortunate that I was kept very busy with work and wedding preparations during the final week before our marriage. I hated being in our flat on my own and I longed to be with Emma again. I was grateful that the week went by quickly and it felt good on the Friday afternoon after finishing work early to load up my car and set out for Emma's home village in the West Country where we were to be married the next day.

My first task on the way was to pick up Pete, who during one of our drinking sessions a few weeks previously, I had impulsively and rashly invited to be my best man. I realised the next day that it had almost certainly been an unwise choice. But a promise is a promise and a mate is a mate so I stuck with it. Emma had rolled her eyes and groaned in despair when I told her.

"I don't mind if you end up on your stag night with your face buried in a lap dancer's cleavage, or her crotch for that matter," she had told me. "But whatever you do, don't end up handcuffed inside the parcels van on the overnight express to Glasgow."

In the event, she had found me the following morning deposited in our garage; naked in my white Chucks, trussed up with an inflatable sex doll with its arms and legs wrapped around me, and with hardly any recollection of where I had been or what I had done. I reckoned that Pete had let me off pretty lightly. Emma's perspective had been somewhat different.

He was uncharacteristically subdued as we began our journey. Then after a little while he brightened up a little.

"So you've finally found what you've been looking for all along and you're settling down at last. I'm really happy for you mate," he said.

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you think you'll ever settle down?"

"I had enough of being settled when I was growing up, mate," he retorted; "what with my mum and dad blaming me for everything, two older brothers picking on me all the time and my snitch of a sister always dropping me in it. No 'happy families' for me thanks very much.

"Don't you ever think you'd like more from a girl than a one night stand?" I persisted.

"It suits me and it suits all the women I come across. Women are a lot more like blokes nowadays; they want sex without commitment too. And I always treat them right. If they come to my place they get breakfast in bed the next morning and if I'm at their place I always offer to wash up."

"And you're happy with that?" I asked.

"It'll do, mate," he replied, staring out of the side window; "it'll do."

Our conversation perked up as our journey progressed and it took in all the usual male orientated subject matter. We made good progress and were well in time for our rendezvous with Emma in the market town near to her parent's farm. Also due to be arriving was Kate, Emma's bridesmaid and best friend at ballet school, and with whom she had shared her late night naked drive to the coast.

Emma met us at our favourite pub in the town as arranged. She looked gorgeously sexy in her pale yellow sleeveless mini dress, black tights and white Ben Simons lace up plimsolls and her hair tied back in a long pony tail. We were overjoyed to see each other after a week apart but I noticed her tense slightly as I hugged her close while we kissed.

"Are you feeling nervous already?" I smiled at her.

"I'm OK," she reassured me. "I bumped into the corner of the dining table at lunch time and it still feels a bit sore. Hopefully I've had my bit of wedding bad luck now."

Emma was fond of Pete in spite of his habit of getting me into tricky situations and she greeted him with genuine warmth. We had just settled down with some drinks when Kate arrived, so we all got up again to greet her.

"Hi Pete," she said to him with great enthusiasm as I introduced them, and I sensed an immediate rapport establishing between her bubbly, nice-but-naughty vivaciousness and his rough hewn, jack-the-lad, diamond bloke persona as they eyed each other up appreciatively. She settled down next to him and opposite Emma and was about to take her first sip of white wine when she suddenly exclaimed to her,

"Mm! Guess who I met in Oxford Street yesterday -- Lorna!"

"No, not Little Miss Tiny Tits, she must have seen you first," Emma retorted.

"It wasn't like that, Em', she was lovely," Kate riposted. "She was really excited when I told her you're getting married. She married now, she's Mrs Steve Haslam. He's a really nice guy too, very relaxed and easy going. And she's about to drop twins any day, I've never seen anyone look as preggers as her. Do you remember how we used to joke that her tits were like little green apples? Well now she's got jugs are the size of melons and she's ecstatic. Anyway, when I told her about your wedding she insisted on getting you a wedding card there and then and she recorded a message on my mobile for you as well."

She handed her phone and the envelope containing Lorna's card to Emma, whose initial expression of scepticism while opening the card melted into a smile of pleasant surprise.

"She's remembered how much I love Japanese art," she said as she showed us the card with it's scene from a classic Japanese picture of two herons flying above Mount Fuji. Inside the card, in a flowing feminine hand, was written,

'To Emma and Chas, with all my love and fondest wishes that your wedding day will be wonderful, Lorna XX.'

Beneath Lorna's message Steve had added, in a strong, precise masculine style,

'Hope you have a great wedding and lots of happy days (and nights) for many years to come, Steve.'

"And that's not all that she remembered about you," Kate said to Emma. "Watch her video."

We bunched up together to see the screen as the video started. It showed Lorna and Steve sitting at a pavement table outside a coffee shop. She looked like Audrey Hepburn's very pregnant twin sister and, although I would never have admitted it, it was obvious why she would be able to provoke jealousy in a girl even as beautiful as Emma. Steve at first sight looked blonde and bland beside her, but a closer examination revealed the calm, quiet intelligence in his eyes and the ready wit in his expression as he listened to what Lorna was recording. He made a couple of witty additions to what Lorna was saying and his voice, unlike what I expected, was richly and darkly well spoken with a hint of East London. It reminded me of the actor Terrence Stamp.

"Hi Emma, hi Chas," she began in a lively manner with a voice that sounded like a lighter toned version of Joanna Lumley's, with perfect pronunciation and diction. "I'm so happy that you're getting married and I hope you have a really lovely day. I hope you'll come and see us when we're all settled down and it will be great to get all the girls together for a school reunion. I hope I chose the right card for you, Emma, and there's something from your wedding list on its way to you too. I also remember that you loved wearing those white lace-up plimsolls that we wore for gym and PE lessons so we've sent you a pair of those as well. Steve's got me into them again and we both love wearing them; show Emma, Kate."

The camera then pointed down to her and Steve's feet. They were both wearing white Keds with white ankle socks: Lorna's over black support tights on her slender legs and Steve's with turned up jeans. They both patted their feet playfully to make a soft rubbery patting sound on the pavement as they shouted in unison "Bye Emma, bye Chas, hope to see you soon!"

"Well, it looks like it's time to revise my opinion of her," Emma admitted. "I wish now I'd sent them an invitation."

We finished our meal and Emma took Kate back to her parents while Pete and I headed for our hotel. It was a huge wrench to be without Emma again even for only one more night and I had to resolve not to have too many nightcaps with Pete to compensate. But his mind seemed to be on other things.

"That Kate's a right little cracker," he kept on saying.

Our wedding took place at the Georgian manor house on the edge of Emma's home village, which had been turned into a country club. The owner was an old friend of her father, Bill, and gave him a very good deal for hosting the civil ceremony and the reception. Rosalie, Emma's mother, was disappointed that the wedding wasn't to be in the village church, but neither of us have a religious faith so therefore preferred to be married by the registrar.

My breath was taken away by my first sight of her as Bill led her on his arm into the main reception room where the ceremony was taking place, to the accompaniment of the opening theme of Dvorak's serenade for wind instruments played by a group led by Emma's sister Sophie and her husband Ben, who had met and played together in a leading orchestra. She wore a beautiful ballerina length wedding dress in white satin with pearls decorating the bodice and lots of lacy petticoat filling out the skirt that showed just the right length of her lovely legs in her snow white tights. Her hair was piled up and garlanded with flowers and she carried a bouquet of white lilies and roses. For the first time in my life I saw her wearing heeled shoes: beautiful shiny white satin wedding pumps, which she had agreed to wear as a very special concession to her mum.

Kate's bridesmaid's dress was similar in style but less ornately decorated in a peachy pink colour. Also accompanying Emma were two adorable flower girls wearing little pink tutus and pink satin ballet slippers with white ankle socks. They were her five year old cousins Poppy and Tilly, who were the granddaughters of Bill's late brother Tony by his older son Paul. Keeping a close and solemn watch on them in her role of Chief Acolyte was Emma's 11 year old cousin Heloise, a strikingly beautiful but very serious looking girl in her white tutu with a little sticking out lace skirt, her pencil slim legs in white tights and her feet in white satin ballet slippers with ankle ribbons. She was the daughter of Tony's daughter Laura and she lived for ballet.

I felt a deep thrill as the procession took its places next to where Pete and I stood and Emma was by my side at last. Out of the corners of my eyes I noticed Pete and Kate smile to each other several times during the marriage ceremony. Emma was all smiles and she giggled when she fluffed her first line of the ceremony and had to start again. After all the months of preparation and build up it seemed like only an instant for us to become husband and wife and emerge again as a married couple.

It was lovely to see with how much affection and esteem that Emma was regarded in the village. It seemed that the entire population had turned up to wave and cheer her arrival and they had waited patiently during the ceremony, sustained by drinks and canapés thoughtfully provided by her parents, to see her at my side.

We spent a few minutes on the official photographs and as soon as they were over she stepped daintily out of her wedding shoes as she steadied herself on my shoulder and changed to a pair of brand new white Keds plimsolls. I smiled as I saw Rosalie shaking her head and mouthing an exasperated comment to Bill. Emma saw what was happening and blew a kiss to her mother as stepped forward to where everyone could get a good photograph of her and, to cheers and chants of "Go Emma, Go Emma!" and "Emma, Emma, Emma, Oi, Oi, Oi!", she playfully lifted up her skirts to show her lacy garter encircling her shapely thigh.

This was the signal for a barrage of photographers all wanting to photograph her and be photographed with her. She whooped with delight when her dear Spanish friend Lucinda emerged from the crowd to share in some photos while wearing a very smart tailored jacket and skirt suit with white Victoria plimsolls. Her English husband Martin temporarily took care of her stilettos and shepherded their young children, Felipe and Alicia, while taking a few pictures of his lovely wife laughing and frolicking with mine.

I had shared with Emma in the first few photos but then stepped back, happy to let her have the limelight. I was sitting on a wrought iron garden bench enjoying watching her when Heloise, still dressed in her ballerina costume, came and sat down next to me.

"I think it's sad that everyone wants to photograph Emma and not you," she said solemnly.

"I don't mind at all, I love to see her getting so much attention," I reassured her.

"I still think you should be in some photos as well," she replied determinedly. "Uncle Andrew, please will you take some photos of me with my new cousin, Charles?" she called to the young man who was Tony's younger son, looking red faced and unaccustomed to wearing a suit. Heloise may have been a serious young lady but she certainly wasn't shy. To my pleasant surprise she sat on my lap, with her dainty feet pointing demurely in her ballet shoes on the ends of her slender legs, put her arms round my neck, looked confidently at the camera and transformed her face with a radiant smile. I could see straight away she was a born performer. She remained sitting on my lap after Andrew had finished photographing us and moved on.

"All the little children in our family call Emma 'Lovely Emma'," she informed me. "When my brothers and I were little, whenever we were going to visit Uncle Bill and Aunt Rosalie, we would always ask, 'Will Lovely Emma be there?'"

"That's really nice," I smiled. She carried on as if she hadn't heard me.

"Once when we were all at Grandma's house for her birthday party and I was playing hide and seek with the other children I went to hide in one of the bedrooms and I found Emma lying on the bed and crying. She told me she had come upstairs for a little sleep because she was tired and a horrible dream had frightened her."

When Heloise told me when this had taken place I understood immediately what had really been happening. Emma, in pain, exhausted and in anguish after another of Malcolm's abuse sessions, had hid herself away from the love of her family; unable to bear the contrast between it and the treatment she knew she would be going back to. I tensed at the thought of her in the grip of such emotional torture.

"You'll look after her and keep her safe, won't you?" Heloise's solemn eyes looked deeply into mine as she squeezed my hand and laid her solemn charge upon me with a child's unquestioning trust. I realised straight away that she understood much more than her tender years ought to.

"Yes," I smiled to her, needing to say nothing more, and she smiled back. After a moment I said to her, "You like ballet, like Emma, don't you?"

Her whole being brightened and her face became radiant, "I want to be a ballerina more than anything in the world. My teacher says I can go en pointe next year. I can't wait. And I'm waiting to see if I'll get a place at the Royal Ballet School, I can't stop thinking about it."

I knew straight away she had got what it would take. I squeezed her hand affectionately, lifted her off my lap to stand her on the ground and stood up beside her.

"Come and meet my twin sister, Bryony," I smiled to her. "She can tell you all about being a ballerina."

After the long photo session naturally petered out we moved back into the club for the reception. I had no family there apart from Bryony and Laurelle, although lots of my friends from work, my cricket club and swimming club and from college were there. Bryony and Laurelle were seated with Emma's younger brother Tom and his lively and very pretty American girlfriend Gretchen and they quickly started up a lively conversation. Also on the top table were Emma's older brother Mike with his beautiful Indian wife Puja and their young children Sam and Rachel. Many more of Emma's large extended family sat at other tables. There were Bill's older sister Gwen with her husband Dennis and their children and grandchildren, as well as Tony's widow Sonia with her second husband Keith and their children and grandchildren.

After having endured Pete's humiliation of me on my stag night I spent the time during the wedding breakfast inwardly dreading the further humiliations I was sure he would heap upon me in his speech. The time for speeches arrived. Emma surprised and delighted everyone by getting up to give her own little speech of welcome and thanks and to pay a fulsome tribute to her parents and brought Rosalie to tears for the second time that day. Then Bill spoke wittily and affectionately of his daughter and welcomed me warmly into the Curtin clan. I beamed with gratitude when he gave an equally warm welcome to Bryony and Laurelle, knowing how much it meant to them. I then rose to make a sincere if slightly awkward response and say some nice things about my bride which provoked lots of "Aaahs" from the assembly. Then the dreaded moment arrived and Pete rose in response to my toast for Kate as Emma's bridesmaid and for Heloise, Poppy and Tilly.

To my surprise and relief he remembered the company he was in and reined himself in, only approaching ribaldry on a couple of occasions. He couldn't resist telling a few funny stories about me, but there was nothing disgusting and he finally brought a lump to my throat as he paid tribute to my enduring and steadfast friendship. He led the company in a toast to Emma and me and sat down to a chorus of cheers, claps, stamping feet and spoons clinking on champagne glasses. I saw Kate give him an appreciative smile.

After mingling and chatting for a while Emma and I went upstairs to change into our going away clothes. We came back down to more cheers and wolf whistles as Emma showed herself off in a very stylish long sleeved and short skirted white knitted dress worn with black and gold hooped tights and her new white Keds. As we said our goodbyes while making our way to our car I noticed Kate cuddled up next to Pete with a proprietorial smile on her face and he looking extremely satisfied with the situation. To a chorus of cheering and waving and with more tears from Rosalie we drove off to our hotel a few miles away back towards London, from where the next day we would drive to Heathrow and fly to our honeymoon destination which I was keeping a secret until the last moment.

The hotel was a five star country house hotel in another fine Georgian mansion. I felt so proud to walk into the reception with Emma's hand in mine and see so many people turn to look at her admiringly. We were quickly taken up to the bridal suite and the porter seemed very reluctant to leave after I had tipped him. Our suite consisted of a sitting room, bedroom and bathroom and was comfortably and stylishly furnished with a tasteful blend of modern and period furnishing and decoration. I poured us each a glass of champagne, compliments of the management, and we collapsed for a while on the sumptuous sofa. After reviewing the day's events I said to her as I stroked her plimsolled feet through my socks, having taken off my shoes,

"Pete and Kate seem to be hitting it off."

"He's not going to pass up the invitation to get into her panties," she laughed.

"I really think there could be something more in it than that," I persisted.

"Well I'd love to see Kate conquer the Lone Ranger," she giggled, "but I don't think it will happen somehow."

"Do you think we'll always be plimsoll fetishists?" I said after a moment.

"Absolutely," she replied. "In fact I've put in my will that when I die I want to be buried naked wearing my favourite white plimsolls, the first ones that Lucinda gave to me, and holding my favourite red ballet shoes between what's left of my breasts."

"I'd better start making the most of them now while you've still got them," I laughed.

"So you're not too shagged out for a shag, then," she giggled.

"I always make sure I pace myself to keep something in reserve," I smiled and then stroked her thighs as I kissed her and felt her respond instantly to my loving touch.