Chapter 35: Wedding Plans (II)

Upon their return from the Caribbean, Stacy and Joanie promptly formed a troika with Sara, determined to make our wedding something spectacular in a Master PC kind of way. Nervous in a way I cannot really describe, I made sure I was privy to all discussions as soon as I returned from the airport, having reluctantly put Liz on a plane back to L.A.

“What do we always need to worry about when planning weddings?” Sara said, pencil in hand.

“How many babes at the bachelor party?” I volunteered.

“Well, there’s that,” Joanie said with a twinkle in her eye. “But I was going to say the wedding dress.”

“Bingo!” Sara actually shouted. “We need to get Nicky something spectacular in a Royal Wedding kind of way.”

“How about the dress Grace Kelly wore in Monaco?” Stacy spoke up.

“How do you even know about Grace Kelly?” I asked, shocked. “A little before your time.”

“Come on, dad,” she sighed. “I Googled wedding dresses. It’s all over the place.”

My daughter then showed me what she was talking about. Even thought the coolly blonde Grace Kelly in no way looked like my dark-haired, dusky Nicky, I quickly saw what got her attention. Skin tight, form-fitting lace, a cummerbund (or whatever a female counterpart is) cinching her waist, a very fetching veil and a train that wasn’t half of what I was expecting. It was a striking, yes, sexy then as it is now. Timeless, I believe they call it.

“Put her in that dress and I’ll fuck her right there in front of the priest,” I said, knowing the reaction. The groans and shouts of revulsion almost sounded genuine. Someone with a strong throwing arm drilled me with a cookie. So it had the desired effect. So I let them off the hook.

“You guys can do this without me,” I grinned. “Thanks for allowing me to a joke at your expense.”

“Dad, why don’t you go find your beautiful bride-to-be and treat her to something more civilized than public sex?” my daughter actually asked me.

“She and Belle ought to be just about worn out right now,” Sara said with a wink. “Give her an hour or two to rest and she’ll be as good as new.”

I was already halfway out the door.

“If I hurry, I might get there before they’re done!” I said over my shoulder, slamming the door and making a point to lay some rubber as I pulled away.

As I was able to hear, second-hand, Stacy sighed and slapped her hands on the table.

“I know we can say anything in front of him, but some things you just don’t want to talk about in front of your father,” she said.

“Even if you’re fucking him,” Joanie said, not a question.

“Even if,” Stacy agreed.

“Specifically, what?” Sara asked.

“When he and Nicky are out the door and on their way, I want this little affair to turn into the wildest, craziest orgy this town has ever seen,” she said, making eye contact with the other women to drive home the point she was sincere. “I want to have sex with everyone. I mean, everyone. If it takes three days, I want to come away knowing I have helped every one of the girls, and their parents, have crazy orgasms. I want every man to be drained of cum, and I would be happy if every woman was covered.”

“Is that before of after the reception?” Sara joked.

“After, of course,” Stacy grinned. “Dad and Nicky need to have their dance, cut the cake, toss the bouquet, all that shit.”

“What about your mother?” Joanie asked. “I know we didn’t go through all that trouble in Antigua just to deliver an invitation.”

“No, we had to deliver an invitation that would be accepted without hesitation,” she replied. “That meant, the bitch leaves her whore at home. What I have in store for her is my surprise.”

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” Sara said. “What other evil plans do you have?”

Stacy leaned forward at the table and lowered her voice dramatically.

“Beautiful dresses for the bridesmaids. And as they walk down the aisle, their boobs all grow to at least DD,” she said. “I want every male cock to grow another six inches, right then and there.”

“That include the bride and groom,” Joanie asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Of course,” Stacy nodded. “We just want to make sure that Nicky’s dress has some give to it.”

“Only she won’t know why,” Sara completed the thought. Stacy just nodded.

“Who makes the dress?” Joanie, who was already turned on by the conversation, added after a moment.

“There’s a place in San Francisco that does dresses with a little kink to them,” Stacy reported an Internet finding. “The designer used to do bondage stuff, but now they have leather gowns, spandex that looks like lace, that sort of stuff.”

“Sounds perfect,” Joanie said.

“That’s why Sara and Nicky are going there for a fitting at the end of the week,” Stacy smiled triumphantly. The problem for my daughter was that, unknown to her, Doc was formulating plans of his own for my wedding day. And he, not Stacy, had Master PC at his disposal.