Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Pregnancy, Cream Pie, Slow, Violent,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Prologue - Love can blossom when least expected. Just ask Gary and Shiloh. Both of their lives are at low and dark points. Gary, a retired and divorced pilot, has love as the last thing on his mind when he moves into a new house. That's where he meets Shiloh, a soon-to-be 17 year old. She helps him move in and, later, deal with the darkness in his life. He helps her deal with her abusive step-father. They both, in their own ways, save each other and come to terms with their feelings for each other.
I stand there, eyes closed momentarily and try to calm my beating heart. It's beating ninety miles per hour, hammering in my chest. Been like this for the past twenty-four hours. Luckily I'm in shape, because I don't think I'd have survived if I were out of shape. Ok, so maybe I would've.
I chuckle nervously and open my eyes and scan the small crowd around in front of me. I look to my left, at my step-brother, Rob. He grins a goofy grin and pats me on my shoulder. I look back at the crowd, catching one of my step-sisters' eyes and she motions for me to breathe slowly. Obviously I look like I'm about to hyperventilate. Well, I am. I'm doing what I'd sworn a year or so prior that I'd never do—I'm getting married. Again.
Looking back, if you'd have told me a year ago that I'd be getting married a second time, I'd have either laughed in your face or asked if you were drunk. Probably both. Definitely the first part.
You know that saying, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me"? I'm really, really hoping that particular saying doesn't come back to bite me in the ass. I know more than one person in the crowd thinks I'm making a big, no, huge mistake. Glancing at my mom, she returns my look with a quick, grim look before closing her eyes momentarily. She opens them again and smiles at me. Glad that I'm happy. Sad that perhaps I'm making a big mistake, she's one of the few people that's had a hard time accepting my fiancée. Happy at the prospects of having more grandbabies. She is a typical mom, you know. Happy, sad, upset, chagrined and other emotions and feelings all rolled up into one big ball of mom.
About that time the church organist begins the wedding march and the doors at the rear of the church open. My heart pounds in my ears. I do like any other guy in the long history of weddings and ask myself if I'm doing the right thing. That's just the old fears and doubts rattling around in my noggin. If you've been married, you've had those same lingering thoughts as well.
A ripple of laughter rolls over the small crowd, friends and family all, that's gathered to watch me either make the biggest mistake of my life, again, or to finally be truly and honestly happy for the first time in a very long time. My brother, my real brother, Sam, true to his humorous self, is escorting my bride-to-be, Shiloh, carrying a shotgun. A freaking shotgun! The joker sees me laughing and shaking my head, gets this "I'm dead serious" look, points to the gun and then to me; and then bursts out laughing. My fiancée, Shiloh, obviously is in on this joke. She's giggling, hiding her grin behind a white-gloved hand.
Sam grins some more then escorts the love of my life down the aisle. I look across from where I'm standing and see my daughter, Kaitlyn, grinning at me as well. I cock an eyebrow at her with an unspoken question and she just winks at me. I realize then that everyone in the wedding party, including the priest behind me chuckling, is in on this joke. I just grin, shake my head and look back at my approaching fiancée.
This is our formal, "normal" wedding; we were already technically married. Had been so for a while now. As soon as Shiloh had had her last birthday, we got married at the courthouse. We both decided to have something that our friends and family could attend and celebrate.
Sam and Shiloh finally reach me. At this point, I'm nervous, weak-kneed, giddy and, above all else, happy. Sam shakes my hand and takes his place next to me as my best man. I take Shiloh's outstretched hand and smile at her. She returns my smile, obscured somewhat by the veil she's wearing, and then steps up next to me. My love, my seventeen year-old fiancée, and I turn around to start our lives together.
Yes, she's all of seventeen years old. That's another thing; if you'd told me a year or so prior that I'd be getting married to a seventeen-year-old, I'd have called you a sick son-of-a-bitch. Amazing what destiny, fate, circumstances — life — does when it conspires against you and throws one helluva curveball in a person's life, huh? It sure threw me a whopper of one with Shiloh.
Let's back up a little bit and let me explain how it is that we, you the reader and me and the rest of my friends and family, reached this particular moment in the flow of time.