Chapter 22

Kim's turn:

Let me tell you about Aunt Jenn's wedding. It was an adventure. Getting to California for the wedding was my first time flying off somewhere.

Aunt Jenn, before Tim, was my rescuer, my rock. Mom's younger sister, the one who went to college, got a degree, became a schoolteacher. Decent person, and according to Mom, "One a'them bull dykes" like Mom's heterosexual alternative was somehow superior.

When Mom went to jail, Aunt Jenn took me in without batting an eye and opened up to me about her relationship with Laci. Laci's a bit more mouthy and extroverted where Aunt Jenn is a bit more reserved, but I saw two people who treated one another with respect, and yes, 'love' that didn't involve abuse.

We live in a state that doesn't legitimize same-sex marriage. They wanted to get married. We talked. In this day and age, marriage is an archaic option for so many people. Aunt Jenn and Laci didn't see it that way at all. They wanted to get married. Friends helped set the whole thing up for them in California.

The guy who did the wedding cake for OUR marriage lived in California for years before he moved back home to take care of his aging parents. He had a lot of friends still in California, so it was like a pipeline of information. We knew where the wedding was going to be, where we were going to stay, where we were going to eat, the whole enchilada, before we left.

Tim talked me into a reprise of the dress I wore for our wedding.

"Why?"

"Because it elevates your beauty to a mythical level."

Damned straight I'm gonna wear that dress.

Dresses. I know that some lesbian couples do that 'bride and groom' thing. I asked Aunt Jenn and Laci beforehand what they were going to do.

"Matching dresses," Laci said.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Come on, Kimberly!" Aunt Jenn said. "We're not buying into somebody else's stereotypes here. We're both women..."

"I know! I looked!" Laci popped. She's a bit more open since Tim and I have been together.

"Laci!" Aunt Jenn blurted. "Uh, anyway..." she continued, tossing one of those looks at Laci, "we've been together for years. We're both women. We just happen to love each other. Neither of us has to toss some butch-dyke thing out in front of people. This whole thing is about who WE are. Just like you and Tim."

"He's male. I looked!" I tossed at Laci.

"You two stop fighting or I'm gonna have to send Kim home!"

So that's what they did. Marriage ceremony, the two of them in simple blue dresses, very pretty, really. We have lots of pictures and video.

"Beautiful," Tim had said on their wedding day. "If I wasn't married to you, I might turn lesbian."

"Wouldn't work, remember," I countered. "You have an outie. They like innies." I smirked. "I know. I looked! You're an outie!"

"And neither of them look like a Celtic princess," he said.

"Good recovery," I smirked. "You shall be rewarded."

Back to the wedding. The airlines made out like bandits on this thing because in addition to me and Tim, Aunt Jenn and Laci, there were seven of their back home friends, including the cake guy, at the wedding.

No, he didn't make this cake. One of his friends did. He did, however, ask about Vicki, "a delightful, happy child".

Turnabout is fair play, they say. Tim stood in as Best Man upon Laci's smart-assed request, and I was Matron of Honor, all sixteen years of me.

The ceremony was sweet, romantic, simple, as befitting the participating couple. I expected no less. I suppose some might have expected some kind of campy caricature of some kind of exaggeration of a heterosexual marriage. They don't know my TWO aunts.

My two aunts and their extended circle of friends do know how to put together a feed for the reception. Sushi! I never get enough sushi, and as you might imagine, the Louisiana Gulf Coast is not well-supplied. I mentioned it to Aunt Jenn. Kimberly's sushi table was the result.

Tim saw it. Made the remark, "This has Kimberly written all over it."

"In kanji," I said. I was loading up a plate. Chopsticks. Hashi. I can do 'em.

I can also do champagne. Two, no THREE glasses, a number that I now draw as a red line. Tim cautioned me, but I know the whole 'alcohol is dangerous' thing. I wasn't driving. I was in the hands of somebody whom I loved and trusted and who would take advantage of me in lovely ways. And I wasn't going to get nasty drunk. I know what that looks like. Mom was famous for it.

When Tim and I left the reception, I was slightly buzzed, a state that is possibly dangerous to my mate's health and legal status because he was trying to drive back to the hotel and I was trying to get his dick out of his pants, two mutually exclusive activities.

"Stoppit! Kim, this is not our home territory. If I get caught engaged in sex with a sixteen year old, there's gonna be trouble."

"I got a copy of our marriage certificate," I said.

"They won't buy it, Kim."

"It's Califorrrrrrnia, baby ... Debauchery is almost a requirement," I giggled. I had the head out. His brain might be saying 'no' but the rest of him was all for this. My favorite plum was slick with salty, slippery juice.

"Oooo-kay, scairdy-cat," I whined. "I'll put my toys up." Or not. I wasn't nearly as motivated in reversing the process.

When we pulled into the hotel parking, he had to stuff himself back into his pants and zip back up.

"I'm thinking you need to start wearing a kilt for these events," I said.

"No way. You get a couple of drinks, you get crazy." He looked at me. "Not that it's a BAD thing ... But no kilt!"

We were walking back into the hotel holding hands. "Think about it. Your kilt. I'll wear a skirt. No undies on either of us ... the possibilities."

"Stop that!" He hissed through a chuckle. "I can't walk in there with an obvious erection."

Giggle. "I offered to take care of that for you."

One of those tacky conversations I overheard at lunch was a couple of the jocks talking about a tryst with one of the school slut-puppies. "I tore that pussy up!" When he said it, I was disgusted almost to the point of vomiting.

The next morning, though, when I squeezed my thighs together and felt raw, I realized that I had experienced such a thing myself the previous evening, that it was much of my own making, that I was almost unconscious from multiple orgasms more than once, and that this creature next to me, still nude himself, was finally so spent that I couldn't suck him out of flaccidity.

I rose up on an elbow, looked upon the face of my husband. Can't help it. Had to touch him. Gently stroked his face. He rolled over on his back. I don't know if that was conscious on his part, but it MIGHT be.

Let me wake him up gently. I pushed the covers back. Acquired my target. Captured it in one wet suck.

"Mmmmmmm," I purred.

"Mmmmmm, little one. Is it still alive?"

I felt it stirring in my mouth. I popped up. "Yes. We tried, though."

"You put it in a coma."

"I'm sore. Can we shower? And be gentle..."

We could. We had to. We needed to do breakfast then clear the hotel and hit the airport for home. My two aunts are spending the Christmas holidays in California for their honeymoon. Tim and I were going back home.

I had thoughts of that 'Mile-High Club' but a Boeing 737 packed to the gills doesn't allow for that without subsequent arrest, so we settled for snuggling together for the trip. Layover in Dallas. Another hop to our home.

Walked up the sidewalk to our apartment. It felt alien, knowing that Aunt Jenn wasn't going to be there for happy noises for a while. Oh, well. I'm sure that there will be some communication forthcoming. Both my aunts are technologically adept. They're also on their honeymoon.