It Happened at a Wedding

by Alistair Acorn

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Drunk/Drugged, Mother, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: A young man returns home after five years absence to attend his sisters wedding to keep a childhood promise to her. He also seeks revenge on his parent, but his hate softens, but not after a humiliation.

It had been five years since I had been home, and as the miles passed under the bus's wheels I hated every one of them. One would have believed that after being away from home at university the prospect of seeing ones parents would be a happy occasion; not mine. I had promised my sister that I would come to her wedding no matter where she was having it. It was one of those childish promises, but she had contacted me and reminded me of our vows.

Asleep in the seat opposite me was Allan, the best friend any man could ever have and I can see the expression on my mothers face when she sees him, for he is a black African from western Nigeria. When I say black, he is ebony black. The reason also that he is sitting opposite me, is the bus seats were made for average sized people, not two muscle-bound six foot four 'metal pushers'. Since the coach was half full no-one objected to our seating arrangements, maybe our build was a bit intimidating.

I was returning to a small-town, where most of the population depended on the shops and factories owned by my mother, and she was known behind her back as 'Sour face'. I have never seen her smile, or say a kind word about anyone, not even to my father. Father is one of the town's doctors, and I seldom saw him except at mealtimes, for he was always away seeing to' his patients.' I assume it was an excuse to get out of the home, for my mother never missed a chance to let my sister, and I know that it is her money that controls this town and most people in it.

At the local school in the beginning, I was teased and picked on, because of my mother, and I didn't like it one bit. One day doing a chore for an old woman, helping her clear out a room in her house (well as much as an eight-year-old could) that I found a folder with the complete 'Charles Atlas' body building course. The folder belonged to the old woman's son who had been killed in Vietnam.

"I believe you are a bit young to be thinking of doing that course," she said as she nodded her head when she saw me looking at it.

"Can I keep it?"

"If you want it, then it is yours. Anyway, everything is going to the rubbish tip," she said with a tear forming in both eyes.

As the woman said I was a bit too young to start, but four years later I began in earnest. Slowly, I started putting on bulk and the teases and taunts got less and less as I started to tower over all the boys in school. I wasn't the only one who gained by my build, my sister was left alone.

I said earlier the only time I saw my father was at mealtimes; we had to be standing behind our chairs, dressed for every meal. The meals were served at specific times, and we had to be there, or we got nothing. At every occasion the subject of fornication would be raised, as the sin of sins and any mating between a man and a woman should be for 'breeding purposes' only.

So thorough were our rooms inspected every single day without exception, would make a sergeant-major jealous. Neither of us got any affection, a hug nor even a kiss from our mother, so is it any wonder I got out as soon as I possibly could. I had my mind set on being an entomologist; I studied hard to gain a sponsorship. I succeeded; and once I had the sponsorship confirmed I got a place in the furthest university from home. It had been five years, since I left, and I doubt if anything had changed in our family home, or even the town.

Allan I met in the queue waiting our turn for registration, since both of us were about the same build and pushed the weights we became close friends. We shared the same student accommodation flat, and helped each other in our exams, even though they were for different subjects. Allan was studying forensic science and medicine; he wanted to be a coroner. The show he always talked about was a TV character called Quincy.

I was really looking forward to seeing my sister, for we had been close and not argumentative as some siblings are. Marion suffered as much as I had done and many a sore knuckle we had for not eating properly at the table. The list could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.

To get spending money, Allan and I were part time Crowd Control Officers (bouncers in other words), at the local dance hall on Friday and Saturday nights. The pay was good, and we met some nice women in the process, did I say nice women, we weren't looking for nice women, we wanted ones who would drop their knickers the fastest. One time our flat looked like a knocking shop, nude female bodies lying on the beds and floor. That was some party that night and all from standing near the door of the dancehall. We never needed to spend our money on them so they would open their legs, they came to us.

Allan loved getting head and he once told me he liked that better than pussy. He said it was because one woman was filing her nails as he banged his large black cock into her pussy. If a woman has a hard cock in her mouth, she has to pay attention that was his philosophy. It worked out good for me when we picked up just one woman, he had the top and I had the bottom part of her body.

Our bus arrived near noon at the bus depot, and before I had reached home, I was up-to-date with the news. We only walked a few paces when we were stopped; it was as if everyone wanted to speak to me. I must say it felt good, I never felt so popular, and maybe it was just to look Allan over, for there are very few if any really black people in the community. I wouldn't say they were rednecks, it was just they never had the opportunity to mix outside their Caucasian race. Of course it could have been because of our sheer size. There were some as tall, but that was as far as it went, we could make two of them each.

My mother looked the same as when I left, with her severe looking face and dress. When she saw Allan, I could see the prejudice in her eyes, but since her face showed no emotion, her words were not what the eyes said.

"Nice to meet you Allan, any friend of Charlie's is always welcome." Knowing my mother, those words would have choked her. I doubt if Allan could tell if the words were false or true.

We had three days until the wedding and there was little to do, so we spent the time in the local Gym.

All I was required to do at the wedding was be a witness and that suited me fine, but I still had to get into a dark suit. I hated getting dressed up, but everyone else in the congregation were dressed similar and I know some felt the same way as I did. The jacket remained on until after the reception dinner, and then it was off jacket and tie.

The barkeeper was an old school friend of mine and at one time we were quite close. The ice had been broken and the tense feeling that had been at the beginning had melted and everyone was mixing, maybe the drink had something to do with it. I noticed that even my mother was drinking, which was rare indeed. She appeared to be drinking liqueur; well, she was using a liqueur glass.

I was standing near the bar and Peter, my friend was having a break when I casually said, "The one thing, I would love to see is my mother drunk, would that be a thing. What is she drinking Peter?"

"She's only drinking sherry, she specifically told all the waiters what she wanted in the way of a glass," he replied.

"Crafty bugger, I bet that one has lasted her all night."

"No, she has been quite steady, one every twenty minutes. Would you honestly like to see your mother drunk?"

"Yes, just once, maybe it would crack that shell of hers."

"I doubt she will get drunk on what she is drinking, but I have something that would give similar effects."

"What is it?"

"It's a mixture, look I'll give you a small bottle for yourself, now no more than a teaspoonful, as I have no idea what could happen if given more than that."


"Don't say any more you don't know who is listening just leave it to me, I'll fix her, but it's up to you to take care of her."

"It would be a pleasure, believe me." I replied.

I watched the waiter take drinks to the table where my mother was sitting, but the waiter put two similar glasses on the table and my mother passed one to Ms. Druir. Ms. Druir was our neighbour, she was in her early sixties and had recently retired; she had been a Domestic Science teacher at the local college. Nearly, all students who had attended her class had come under her sharp tongue, she was the ideal friend for my mother, both sour faced. I wonder how Peter made sure my mother got the right drink.

Approaching the portion of the bar where Peter was I signalled him over, "How did you know which drink was for my mother?"

"I spiked them both," he said grinning, then handed me a small flat bottle. "This is the stuff, but you never got it from me, remember now.

I took the bottle, maybe for some future use, but firstly I had to find out how it worked. Now I had two to watch, so I returned to Allan and whispered," Allan, I got Peter to spike my mother's drink, but the idiot went and spiked Ms. Druir's drink as well. I have no idea how the drug works, but he said I had better look after my mother. I can't look after both, so I need you to look after one of them."

"Fair enough, it could be fun, but let's toss a coin to see who looks after whom, since you're not that struck on your mother."

"Heads my mother, tails Ms Druir. This is for you." I said tossing the coin in the air. It came down heads. "Looks like you are getting my mother, best of luck brother," I said with a laugh, and I patted his back.

"That's all right, but what did he spike it with?" Asked Allan.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Drunk/Drugged / Mother /