White Trash Wedding

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

It was a warm day in late spring, so we had the wedding outdoors, in my parents' backyard. The entire families of the Galloways and the Madisons were there as well as many family friends, so the place was pretty packed, even though the family backyard covered some twelve acres. About half of that was covered with little kids, playing, scuffling, fighting, screaming, chasing and throwing balls and sticks and rocks. There were no less than three kegs of beer set up, serving up Coors, Budweiser and Corona, which had been brought in by the various relatives, plus a fair-sized line of bottled liquors, which were being drained at a sizeable rate by the adult members of the family. There were more than a couple of fist-fights among the men and screaming-matches among the women, with a couple of hair-pulling matches going on, with other family members trying to break them up. Several bundles of older women were gathered around like a clutch of hens cackling, the gossip circle about who was sleeping with who, and I'm sorry to say, most of what they were saying was nothing but the truth.

The members of the family were dressed in every way from rented tuxedos and formal gowns on the main participants to worn-out blazers to tank-tops and blue jeans on the congregation. Just a normal, trailer-park, deep-South, red-neck, white-trash wedding. My parents' farm was one of the few members who had more than a trailer house to call home, which was why the wedding was being held here.

For eight-year-old me, at least the food table was promising. My whole family did know how to lay out a good table when it came to pot-luck. We had everything from a huge platter of fried chicken to big bowls full of mashed potatoes to mounds of biscuits to the desserts of cakes and pies and cookies and homemade candies. Trouble was, it was all off-limits until the wedding was done. But the aroma wafted over all of us, all the noise of my family, the shouts and screams and cussing and laughing and crying, the sounds of my life. I wondered how people in those quiet homes I saw on the TV managed to stay sane, with so much silence all around them.

The wedding went along about as well as could be, Clyde Madison looked really nice in his rented tuxedo at the front, with the minister in his black shirt and white collar at the front. The only missing parties were the bride and Clyde's brother Clifton, who was one of his groomsmen. The bridesmaids were all milling about in the background, waiting for their cue with the appearance of the bride.

And waiting.

And waiting.

The wedding was supposed to start at eleven o'clock.

We were still waiting at eleven forty-five, and everyone was getting both antsy and hungry, and the food was getting cold. Fried chicken is okay when only warm and they had it over a slow fire to keep it warm but that can dry out the chicken in a hurry. People were getting worked up.

The bride was supposed to be in the house in an upper bedroom, but she wasn't there or anywhere else in the house, and a search by several family members ensued. As a consolation, the members left behind had their lunch while they waited, and I had some slightly dried out fried chicken and cold biscuits and mashed potatoes and then some cake and cookies.

We found out the answer about two in the afternoon. Clyde's bride was found in a Motel 6 in town with the missing brother, and they were, shall we say, not dressed for the wedding or anything else. A good thing we ate the lunch when we did.

Me, I just went back to my bedroom in the house (I didn't have to go anywhere) and shook my head. My older sister was as dumb as dirt and everyone knew it, but she was losing a good man in Clyde Madison. Why she would throw him over for that lazy younger brother of his was beyond me. Clyde had a good job and money and such, and Clifton had nothing but his good looks and a reputation for a larger than average cock, which I guess was what had attracted my sister.

I next saw Clyde Madison at supper, but only in passing, my parents had found him drunk and incapacitated and had put him into the guest bedroom to let him sleep it off. My sister had run off with Clifton for the time being, and I don't think she planned to be back for a few days. I don't think either of them wanted to see each other for a while.

I stopped to stare at him through the open door, he was only wearing a pair of briefs and lying on top of the bedcovers, and I admired his body. My sister always did go for handsome strong men, and her beautiful body (I had no real opinion on that but others always said that) drew them in like flies, and Clyde was a majestic specimen of man. Lying on the bed like he was, he was like a sculpture of manly beauty laid out for shipping, his handsome face was like a classic Greek god, with his black hair and his square jaw and his soft blue eyes (closed for now), his lips were the kind that you dreamed reaching for yours in the moonlight. His arms were strong with heavy biceps and powerful forearms, his chest was a tapestry of mounds of muscle, paired powerful mountains that begged you to scale them, his trapezii, his pectorals, his abdominals, his obliques, then to his thighs that were similarly paired packs of muscles, his calves were strong, even his feet were beautiful specimens, you wanted to frame this man and be able to gaze upon him at will for the rest of your life.

I sighed and when he stirred, I hastily went on down to supper. Mom took a plate up to Clyde and came down and I ate hastily and went back upstairs, for the talk at the table, it was made clear, was not for young ears like mine.

Some time later, I heard Clyde vomiting in the bathroom I shared with the guest room. He took quite a while in there and I finally got out of my bed and went in to see him. Clyde was kneeling over the toilet bowl, a pathetically sad figure, but still, you wanted to paint or carve this figure, the athletic grace of his beautifully perfect body. He had stopped vomiting and began to struggle to stand up and I hastily drew a glass of water for him. He stood and I handed him the water. "Here," I said. He was still wearing just his briefs, as was I.

"Thanks, George," He said and gulped it down and handed me back the glass. "More."

I filled the glass again, and again, and again. He stopped after the fifth such glassful and said. "Whew! I needed that."

"You really got drunk, didn't you?"

"Yeah, can you blame me?"

"About Clarice, not one bit. Clarice is a ball of fluff stuffed inside a set of boobs and a skirt." I said.

Clyde burst out laughing. "Really big boobs."

"Yeah. I don't blame you for falling for her. But she's never going to stay with one man. None of my family ever stays with one person for very long. My own mother has been married five times, Clarice is only my half-sister. It's like that through my whole family. I guess I'll inherit this farm one day, if my mother stays married to my father long enough. I know she's been hanging out with the neighbor farmer an awful lot...."

Clyde laughed again. "You don't pick your family, you can only pick your nose."

I giggled at that. "Are you hungry? We have a lot of leftovers from the wedding still."

"No, your mother left that plate for me, that's what I threw up a while ago. No, I just need to rest a while. My hangover hasn't quite kicked in yet. It'll strike me in the morning, I guess."

My gaze wandered down and I saw his briefs were hanging loose on him, wet from something or other, I wasn't going to guess what. But his cock was almost showing through them, and it was just as big as his brother's was reputed to be!

I nearly reached out to grab it, had to yank my hand back in mid-touch. Clyde saw that.

"Wanting to see it?" He asked me.

"Uhhh....yeah. Kind of." I admitted. "It looks like a big one."

"It is. Hard, it measures ten inches."

"Wow," I said. I kept staring and his prick was beginning to stir. I got uncomfortable and said, "Well, I'd better go back to my bed now."

"You sleep over there?" Clyde asked.

"Uh-huh, you and I share this bathroom." I said. I turned to walk to my room and realized I was being followed. I turned to see...Clyde right behind me. "Clyde?" I said more as a statement than a question.

"This was supposed to be my wedding night," he said to me simply.

"I know and I'm sorry," I said.

"I don't want sorry," he said, taking me in his arms. 'I want you." And he kissed me.

Long, warm and firm, he kissed me. There was a faint foul taste of his vomit in his kiss and of stale beer, but I didn't care, I had Clyde Madison's arms around me and his mouth was on mine and I was feeling marvelous. I gripped him like he gripped me, my chest pressed against his, my legs dangling in mid-air.

He ferried me to the bed and laid me down on it, released me and stood over me. His hands went to his briefs and slid them down his powerful thighs, and as he stooped to slide them down his legs, his long cock dangled between them. When he got them off himself, he reached for my waist and gripped my brief's waistband and peeled them down my own legs as well, leaving us both naked as we could be. "Not the wedding night I had planned, but I think it's going to be pretty damned good anyway," he told me as he climbed into bed and I scooted out of his way. He kissed me again, madly passionate, hungry kisses like he was driven by his desire, like he was insane with his need, like...like a groom on his wedding night. He had been so anxious for this night the night after the wedding, when the woman of his longings would be totally his, would grace his bed every night and every day, to enjoy whenever he chose. That dream had been shattered, but the desire had remained. He was turning that inflamed desire on me.

He kissed his way down my body and when he reached my small, rigid prick, he engulfed it and sucked on me as if it held the elixir of immortality within. I gasped at this unfamiliar but brilliantly blissful feeling and my hands gripped the sheets and clenched as he worked my little peter. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" I groaned. "Oh, Clyde, this feels so good!" I groaned.

"Can you do mine like this, too?" he asked me bluntly.

"I can try," I said bravely.

"Good boy."

He turned onto his side and I scooted around and down and we got matched up head-to-toe, and when I was in position, he gave me directions and demonstrated on my cock what to do to give him the maximum pleasure. I was soon bobbing my mouth up and down on his dong like a professional, and he was moaning like I had been. My own climax struck soon after I got good at my own job, which makes sense when you remember the head start I had gotten, and I shivered and shuddered and writhed and was done, panting and Clyde was patient with me, but when I slowed my breathing, he gently pushed his cock at me and said, "I still need my loving."

I owed it to him and I bent to my task with a will. Clyde went onto his back with me in between his stout legs and he smiled down at me and said, "George, I reckon I was marrying the wrong Galloway."

"I'm kind of young to get married," I said quickly before resuming my sucking.

"I would have waited." Clyde lay back and moaned. He lasted some five more minutes, then his panting grew more frantic and he gasped out, "Ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, George, George, I'm about to blow, get ready for it, take it for me, take it all, AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHHH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH, AHHH-AHHH-AHHH, AH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Clyde writhed and his hips rose and I rose with them, bobbing as fast as I could all the time and he exploded into me with a fury that I knew about but was still not totally ready for. He had so much come and it all seemed to flood out at the same time, one moment nothing, and then my mouth was filled to the brim and then some with his hot, foamy cream!

I did the only thing I could, I swallowed hard as I could and more come gushed in and I held on and swallowed again and more and again I gulped and again and then that seemed to be all of it, and I gently swallowed the final bit, then sucked at his prick like a straw when you want to drink the last savory dregs of the milkshake you had just drunk. Clyde was moaning and twitching around like an epileptic in full seizure, but he soon finished and when he did, his chest heaving up and down like a bellows, he gasped out, "Oh, oh, man, that was fucking fantastic, best blow job I ever had!"

I crept up his body to lie within his warm right armpit. "I learned from the best." I told him.

"Damned right."

"Wish I could do it again." I said.

"Give me a few hours and we can." Clyde assured me.

"I guess." I said.

"More than that, if you're willing," Clyde said.

"Like what?"

"Like how would you like to have my big, fat cock stuffed up your tiny little bum?" he said.

I considered this novel idea. "How would it feel?"

"Once I got it in there, it would feel terrific for both of us."

"Then let's do it." I said with determination.

"I definitely should have proposed to you instead of Clarice," he told me again.

"I could have told you that," I said to him. "So what do we do next."

"We get busy getting you ready to be fucked in the butt," he said.

It was a busy night for me. Clyde procured the petroleum jelly that Mom had in a fairly big jar in the bedroom (she felt it was a wonderful way to handle any constipation problems for the family, and I had endured her jamming it up my butthole time and again along with a gelatin capsule to help me with diarrhea or constipation or both. I was therefore reasonably used to what Clyde was doing which was using his lubed up finger to stretch out my asshole little by little. He spent his time doing it, and we broke for a while midway through for me to suck his cock again, but he begged off of doing mine. "The more turned on you are while I'm fucking you the first time, the better off you'll be," he explained, and I had to settle for that.

But after most of the night was done, he said that I was as ready as I could be. "Okay, George, I'm going to go in. If you hurt only a little, just tell me and I'll hold for a little and see if you get used to it. If it hurts a lot, yell and I'll stop and pull out. Some pain is inevitable, but push through it and it won't hurt you no more."

He greased his proud ten-inch pole until it was thick with petroleum jelly and then aimed it at my ass. My own butt was already greasy with the stuff and the cock made a sort of squirping sound as he pushed it into me. All I felt was the warm thick shaft of Clyde moving into me and the joy of my body thrilling to it as it filled me to the full point and beyond. "Uhhhh-uhhhh-uhhhh-uhhhh-uh-uh-uhhhhhhh!" I moaned as he slowly pushed into me.

He stopped pushing after a time and said, with a strained sound. "That's got about half of my dong into you. I can work with that if that's all you can handle. How does that feel? Can you take any more?"

I moaned to him. "More, give me more."

He pushed in a little further. "How about now?"

"More, please, more."

He pushed in still more. "That's about two-thirds, George. Six or seven inches."

'More, give me more, please!" I groaned.

"If you're sure," Clyde pushed in again and I gasped, "Oooooooooh!"

"I think that's enough," Clyde said. "You took eight inches on your first try, damn, kid, most women wimp out at five or six. Now, I'll start moving slow, you tell me if it hurts you, and I'll speed up a little at a time."

"Okay!" I panted huskily.

Clyde began to move and it was like the Pearly Gates of Heaven opened up for me, and I was being ushered inside, I clung to him like I was flying through the air and he was the angel carrying me there, and all I felt in his movements was joy, joy and more joy.

Clyde's speeding up was only more glory and more delight, like I was climbing higher and higher. I felt my mind spinning and my world contracting until it was just me and Clyde, he was my entire universe, and I was nothing without him and his joy was mine and his body was everything and I was his to use as he needed it!

Clyde's own face was softened in passion and his breath was wild and frantic and his breath was a whirlwind that blasted my face in alternate gusts of inhalations and exhalations of his heaving chest, and he was humping and puffing and wheezing and gasping and groaning and thrusting and I was a microscopic insect next to him waiting for his action, would it crush me or save me or both!

"Ahhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh, I'm coming, George, I'm coming, ahhh-ahhh-ahhhh-AHHHH-AHHH-AHHHH-AHHHHH-AHHHH-AHHHHHH, HAH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His hot fluid gushed into me again, a wonderful blessed river of his benediction, and I bathed my body in it, and baptized by his wonderful water, I was cleansed in my body and soul, and I was wracked by my own orgasmic joy of the resurrection and rebirth of my spirit and I shivered with the power of new life and new energy and new birth.

I closed my eyes as the feelings left me and I felt Clyde's body come to rest atop me and the strong body above me was comforting and strong and powerful, nothing could hurt me through this powerful cloak of male potency.

Clyde lay atop me for some time like that, and then he stirred, because we both became aware of the first light of the new day shining in my window. "Well, it's time for us to go down and face the family," He said. "A lot of people ready to give me their pity and secretly snicker at me, the cuckolded fiancé, and I don't know if I can stand it."

"What were you and Clarice going to do after the wedding, if it had happened?" I asked.

"We were going to rest our first night at the Motel 6, the same room where she and Clifton...you know," Clyde told me. "Then tomorrow, we were going to travel down to Orlando and spend a week in Disneyland."

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah," Clyde said, then he looked at me. "I can't get my money back for that hotel and such, you know. I got a plan...."

So that was what we did. Mom and Dad were more than happy to let Clyde take me to Disneyland for a week as a way to let him get over my half-sister breaking his heart. But between you and me, we didn't see that much of the theme park as they thought we would.

But I went on a lot of great rides just the same.