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Authors: Andrea Blackstone
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first orgasm with Trey. It was screwed up that thanks to his familyâs puritanical outlook the first man I experienced an orgasm with was our best man. Thanks to Treyâs cock blocking family, smiles on my face caused by hot, passionate lovemaking were few and far in between. This was new for me because I was used to fighting men off, not begging them to jump on the bandwagon.
Speaking of puritanical outlooks, all Treyâs immediate family seemed to do was judge people, and I was not looking forward to a second inspection. Iâd have to tolerate seeing them at wedding rehearsal soon enough anyway. Treyâs mother had her dress altered four times. Maybe if she wouldâve stopped sampling different types of menus for the wedding plate, she wouldâve kept a stable size. I sensed that before long, the total amount paid for her alterations would surpass the cost of my wedding dress. It seemed as though she was the one walking down the aisle instead of me. She and her mother seemed rather comfortable planning how many friends and family would be attending, and how the seating for parents and relatives would be arranged. She was also intent on dictating that grape juice toasts be made since champagne was off limits, and explained that the vows would be read right out of the Bible, even though I made it clear that Trey and I had agreed to compose our own commitment of marriage. Arrangements for the honeymoon and moving in together also came up, but I tuned the suckers out hours prior, reminding myself that the person footing the bill should have the final say soâme.
Since I was estranged from my family and they wouldnât be involved, I was responsible for coughing up the money by the contract due date. Our modest wedding would cost around fifteen thousand dollars. I planned to use my savings to pay for most of it. The remaining tab was small stuff, which I wasnât going to sweat, although it did cut into my reserve stash. My reasoning was that Trey was worth it, and he meant enough for me to part with my rainy day fund.
Hopefully, Trey would take time off from his job and walk down the aisle with me. It sounded like a basic premise, being available for your wedding and honeymoon, but who could tell, especially since he still gave his mother and grandmother spending money every week. Perhaps he wouldnât have had to be a workaholic if he took them off of his payroll account.
âThereâs my son,â Treyâs mother said, hugging him tightly. âLeslie,â she grunted as I walked through the door behind him.
Mabel inspected me from head to toe. I could tell she didnât approve of my outfit although it was conservative. Even so, I didnât give a damn.
âMrs. Williams, itâs always a pleasure,â I lied in the same unpleasant tone.
Her ass was looking more and more like a train caboose every day. Iâm not sure if she ever thought about gastric bypass surgery, but the option shouldâve been considered. Tyler Perryâs get ups had nothing on hers except that hers wasnât a get upâit was something she wore in real life.
As we passed through the living room, I felt an overwhelming sense of fear that I was being suffocated by plastic. I noticed that everything was coated in plasticâtransparent plastic on the furniture, yellow plastic runners covering the carpet, fake plastic fruit on the dining room table, plastic figurines tucked inside of nooks . . . plastic, plastic, plastic! When I noticed a painting depicting a cowboy scene and cellophane on a lampshade below it, I stopped myself from laughing at the thought that she and Fred Sanford would have been great friends.
I had an inkling of an idea that something was amiss when I spotted an unused, yellow legal notepad and a Parker pen sitting on the table. Before long, Treyâs mother was writing down everything I said. I couldnât believe she was actually taking notes on what I
Speaking of puritanical outlooks, all Treyâs immediate family seemed to do was judge people, and I was not looking forward to a second inspection. Iâd have to tolerate seeing them at wedding rehearsal soon enough anyway. Treyâs mother had her dress altered four times. Maybe if she wouldâve stopped sampling different types of menus for the wedding plate, she wouldâve kept a stable size. I sensed that before long, the total amount paid for her alterations would surpass the cost of my wedding dress. It seemed as though she was the one walking down the aisle instead of me. She and her mother seemed rather comfortable planning how many friends and family would be attending, and how the seating for parents and relatives would be arranged. She was also intent on dictating that grape juice toasts be made since champagne was off limits, and explained that the vows would be read right out of the Bible, even though I made it clear that Trey and I had agreed to compose our own commitment of marriage. Arrangements for the honeymoon and moving in together also came up, but I tuned the suckers out hours prior, reminding myself that the person footing the bill should have the final say soâme.
Since I was estranged from my family and they wouldnât be involved, I was responsible for coughing up the money by the contract due date. Our modest wedding would cost around fifteen thousand dollars. I planned to use my savings to pay for most of it. The remaining tab was small stuff, which I wasnât going to sweat, although it did cut into my reserve stash. My reasoning was that Trey was worth it, and he meant enough for me to part with my rainy day fund.
Hopefully, Trey would take time off from his job and walk down the aisle with me. It sounded like a basic premise, being available for your wedding and honeymoon, but who could tell, especially since he still gave his mother and grandmother spending money every week. Perhaps he wouldnât have had to be a workaholic if he took them off of his payroll account.
âThereâs my son,â Treyâs mother said, hugging him tightly. âLeslie,â she grunted as I walked through the door behind him.
Mabel inspected me from head to toe. I could tell she didnât approve of my outfit although it was conservative. Even so, I didnât give a damn.
âMrs. Williams, itâs always a pleasure,â I lied in the same unpleasant tone.
Her ass was looking more and more like a train caboose every day. Iâm not sure if she ever thought about gastric bypass surgery, but the option shouldâve been considered. Tyler Perryâs get ups had nothing on hers except that hers wasnât a get upâit was something she wore in real life.
As we passed through the living room, I felt an overwhelming sense of fear that I was being suffocated by plastic. I noticed that everything was coated in plasticâtransparent plastic on the furniture, yellow plastic runners covering the carpet, fake plastic fruit on the dining room table, plastic figurines tucked inside of nooks . . . plastic, plastic, plastic! When I noticed a painting depicting a cowboy scene and cellophane on a lampshade below it, I stopped myself from laughing at the thought that she and Fred Sanford would have been great friends.
I had an inkling of an idea that something was amiss when I spotted an unused, yellow legal notepad and a Parker pen sitting on the table. Before long, Treyâs mother was writing down everything I said. I couldnât believe she was actually taking notes on what I
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