I won’t bore you… she had no clue and the rest of the time until the reception was anti-climactic… literally.
The reception was as weird as the wedding and just as seasonal.
There was a photo booth with Santa, there were three living reindeer (wearing manure catchers since they were indoors), and there was mistletoe everywhere… which was pretty cool. I was kissed seven times before I sat down: most were just quick pecks, but Aunt Carol shoved her tongue in my mouth. If it weren’t for the crazy afternoon, I likely would have used the mistletoe to flirt with a hot redhead who seemed to be checking me out… but now I was simply looking forward to when I could fuck Mom or Aunt Carol again.
As I pretended to listen to boring speeches, each one a parody of a Christmas song, I watched as Aunt Carol sucked on a candy cane from another table imagining it was my cock (the table was full of them, candy canes not cocks, and the centerpiece was a gingerbread man). I felt a foot between my legs again… this time knowing it was Mom. I glanced over to Dana many times, and wondered if she was available too… she was sitting right beside Mom.
Then the meal was served, which was a traditional Christmas dinner which made me happy… especially since I had a nylon-clad foot in my crotch at all times.
Dad asked, “How was it to be with the ladies all afternoon?”
I answered honestly, “Educational.”
“Boring, huh? I said you should have come with us,” he said.
I wanted to say I was happy I’d come with the women but shrugged, “One afternoon with those teasing ladies and I’ll never be the same.”
“I imagine,” he laughed.
“You had a lot of fun, didn’t you, Wade?” Mom asked, rubbing her foot up and down on me.
“Yeah, I had a blast,” I quipped back, the metaphor lost on Dad.
It wasn’t lost on Mom as she responded right back, “A double blast.”
Dad looked confused, but didn’t ask, knowing from long experience when Mom didn’t make sense, asking only made it more confusing.
“Definitely,” I agreed. I glanced over at Dana with intent and said, “Sometime soon I’d like to try a triple blast.”
Mom saw what, or rather who I was getting at and nodded, “I imagine that’s a distinct possibility.”
“You two are speaking a different language,” Dad joked.
Mom explained without explaining by just saying, “You had to be there.”
“I guess so,” he said, and we resumed eating.
Gary, Dana’s husband, said, “Next time you’ll need to come with us.”
Gross, I thought to myself, his offer sounding to me like a circle jerk.
Dana joined in the conversation, “Dear, just because you love playing with your balls all day doesn’t mean Wade does.”
“Dana!” Gary gasped.
“Isn’t that what you do?” Dana questioned with a big smirk on her face.
Mom added, “They like to have their big sticks in their hands, too.”
“Heather!” Dad now gasped.
“What?” Mom continued. “As far as I can tell, you just spent three hours away from us with other men so you could all swing your big sticks around and chase each other’s balls down the fairway.”
Dad shook his head.