Chapter 43: Consummation
I awoke at dawn, the dome tent’s fabric arcing close over my head, beginning to glow in the morning sunlight, a lizard’s silhouette halfway up the side. It took several seconds before I realized its scrabbling must’ve awakened me.
I slipped out from under the sheet, tucked it under my wife’s flank, and unzipped the tent flap gently enough to disturb neither my wife nor our reptilian guest.
It is a curious fact that a single layer of nylon fabric can trap a significant amount of warm air, even when vented at the top as our tent was, provided you put the rain fly on, as I had. Thus it was that I nearly woke Kaitlyn with a wash of cool air over her sheet-draped body before I zipped the door closed again, allowing her to re-warm the chill air inside the tent’s thin envelope with her body heat.
And thus it was also that when I jogged up-canyon and found neither newlyweds on the sand nor an open tent door to display them to the wedding party as Kaitlyn and I did, I unzipped their tent door with prejudice aforethought, spilling cool morning air over their bare bodies.
Joss was on his back, his jaw slack, a light snore emerging from it, and Allison was draped halfway across him, one arm clear across him, her near breast squashed flat upon his chest, her other concealed behind his bulk, her buns free in the air.
The cooling air.
Her eye cracked open, the one not pressed into her new husband’s chest.
“Bzzwwha?” she asked.
I spent some time interpreting this question, then replied, “Yes, Allison, I know you’re sorry that you forgot about matching our wedding point-by-point, and I’ll let this infraction slide so long as you don’t forget the other key event of the morning after, the display for the wedding party once fully assembled. Otherwise, there will be penalties,” I intoned ominously, adding an evil smile, rubbing my hands together.
She curled all but one of the fingers in the hand nearest me in towards her palm, stuck her tongue out a bit, and appeared to fall back asleep, a small smile on her lips.
I turned and was walking toward the cooking area when I saw Mary Gutierrez walking down-canyon to the same spot.
“Morning, Big Davie,” she greeted me.
“Mary,” I replied, enfolding her matronly softness in a hug that went beyond the standard-issue mother-in-law hug. We had an unusual relationship.
We broke apart, and she asked, “I suppose I have my mage-children to thank for last night.”
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked, trying for innocence, failing outright.
“Only the best sex Ramón and I have ever had together, and I’m counting our own wedding night!”
“TMI,” I opined, but kissed my fingertips and blew it at her. Then in a bid to switch subjects, I asked, “Ever made a train wreck?”
“I think so,” she replied. “Kind of like a casserole-sized omelet, right?”
“That’s it. I’ll get the sausage frying up, and you get to work on beating air into the eggs.”
She bobbled her head side to side, then must have decided that I’d given her the easier job, because she said, “You want to cook sausage in your skin, you go right on ahead!”
I told her, “It’s not hard: you just have to control the temperature is all. Set the grill on ‘flash,’ and you get what you deserve.”
Mary finished with the eggs by the time I had the peppers, onions, and mushrooms diced and sizzling in the bubbling sausage fat, not a pop of it landing on my delicates, so I got to grating the cheese while she set the table.
The water for hot breakfast drinks began to boil, so I turned it down to warm about the time the first of our wedding guests came toddling into camp, the Taylors, fully-dressed. At a distance, they stopped and stared, then Mrs. Taylor called, “Should we go back, and, ah, undress?”
I called back, “No, come on over!” When they walked up, looking a bit caught out, I said, “Welcome to Magic Hands Café, where our patrons are welcome to dress to their level of comfort.”
They laughed a bit at this echo of our massage patter, and Mary asked, “How was your night?”
“Um…” said Mrs. Taylor, stifling an embarrassed giggle, and Mr. Taylor waggled his eyebrows.
“Lemme guess: mind-blowing sex,” stated Mary flatly.
They looked at her in shock, perhaps out of a sense that a fifty-ish woman shouldn’t say such things.
“No wonder after yesterday,” Mary said, clearly attempting to provide cover under her matronly wing for her mage-children. “The beautifully sexy ceremony, the massages, the games, the hours of nudity, the exposure, the voyeurism, the fireworks, the campfire… How can you not go off and hump like the young couple who fell in love with each other once upon a time? Ramón and I sure did.”
They blushed at this depiction, but both were also nodding slightly. “It was a very special night,” admitted Mrs. Taylor, clearly about as far as she was willing to go.
“Wonderful to hear!” Mary enthused.
“Maybe we should peel after all?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
“Suit yourself,” Mary said. “I am, though I will admit that it’s a smidge cold out yet. Maybe you’d prefer to wait until it warms up instead. If you’re still here by the time the sun peeks over that canyon wall, I dare say you’ll be wanting to either skin down or go find some air conditioning.”
“She’s right,” I agreed. “It’ll be cresting 80 about then, on its way to the mid nineties. Clothing isn’t too practical at such temps, as long as you have sunscreen.”
“They do a great sunscreen massage, Davie and my Kaitlyn do,” Mary added.
“We snuck some sunscreen into your massage yesterday afternoon,” I told them. “It’s why we didn’t have everyone screen up again until a few hours later. A few hours after that, the sun was over the canyon edge, so we were good for the rest of the day.”
“You were keeping track of that for us the whole time?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
“Of course. Bodies and skin are our job, ma’am.”
“Ashley,” she said, holding her hand out in her first genuine bit of openness to me.
“Luke,” her husband added, shaking my hand this time with warmth and respect rather than a bid for dominance.
And then in a surprise second gesture of openness to us, the couple peeled bare beside the picnic table, stacking their things up on its far end and fetching a pair of paper plates.
Mary and I served them, the four of us trading broad smiles.
Jasper & Sherry were the next to appear, both wearing terrycloth bathrobes and sandals against the morning cold. They draped these over the chairs they selected for breakfast by the rekindled fire, no longer needing the robes to warm themselves. The pair were squatting mother-bare between their chairs and the fire, leaning forward to warm their hands, their legs wide open for balance.
Since they’d had to hike the farthest — their tent spot being purposely at the far end of the string this time after how noisy they’d been on my own wedding night, nearly outcompeting Kaitlyn and I — I asked Jasper, “Everyone else stirring up-canyon?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “They’ll be along soon.”
All of the other wedding guests soon toddled over, drawn by the promise of shoring up their own personal Maslow’s Hierarchies: food, fire, and friendship.
Ashley was making her way back to the picnic table from her spot by the fire — claimed when she tossed her dirty breakfast things in — when she asked us, “Do those two know their tent flap is open?”
Allison was still pretending to sleep, but I saw her twitch at that. “Yes, they do. It’s kind of a tradition, as is what will shortly follow.” Then I raised my voice and added, “…now that everyone is all here waiting!”
The newlywed bride opened her eyes, raised her head, smiled at us, and then began to whisper in her husband’s ear. He whispered briefly back, and she nodded sharply and whispered loudly enough that we heard it: “Yes, right here, right now!” Then she climbed over his body, back toward him, putting her nubile nudity fully on display in the open tent flap’s frame, almost straight-on from our viewpoint, their tent being up on a small rise, above the canyon’s flash-flood zone.
Joss rearranged himself into a spooning position behind her, Allison raising herself up enough to let Joss’ lower arm snake around her slim athletic waist, his finger on her button. He began to rub it gently, closing her eyes for her.
His upper hand began caressing her breasts, up her neck, smoothing her tossing hair, then back down her body.
As she began to pant, she raised her upper leg, inviting him inside, saying loudly enough for us to hear, “Take me, Joss! Show them that I am yours!”
Her raised leg showed Joss’ erection clearly, and he didn’t hesitate or question this time, just slipped inside his new wife, initially pumping her slowly until she spurred him on, “Faster! Quick and hard, Joss!”
He obeyed, leaping into overdrive, pounding her so hard that the tent shook, its fabric flexing on the fiberglass framework in time with its occupants’ bodies.
“Nnngggh! Yeeaah yeah yeahhhhh Joss! Take me hard, right here, right now!”
Joss breathed like a runner, expending his energy with purpose and direction, neither slacking nor overtiring himself.
“Aaaaayyaaaaiiiiii! I’m clooo-ooo-ooosse!”
Joss’ pounding became a blur, his fingers moving like a flat-pick banjo champion’s, his breaths now sharp and deep.
“Yeeeeeaaaaaiiiigggghhhh!” Allison finally cried in sexual release, her taut belly clenching, her shoulders shivering in the whole-body orgasm.
Joss bellowed, “Nnnnngggggaaaaaahhh!” His pounding stilled instantly, his cock now root-deep inside his wife, upper hand on her shoulder, jamming her hard down onto himself.
As we began to applaud their show, a small bead of whiteness appeared at their interface, Allison unable to accept his full emission.
“Let no witness here say that this marriage was unconsummated!” joked Vin.
“Seriously?” asked Ashley incredulously. “They did that as some kind of proof of their marriage‽”
“Oh, I suppose it has that effect,” said Mary, “but I know my daughter, and the real point there was showing off. She’s ecstatic to have landed a husband, she knows she is beautiful, and she knows that sex is beautiful, so she wanted us to see all of this. Do you disagree with any of that, Ashley?”
She didn’t answer, so her husband Luke said, “You’re right, Mary. Sex is beautiful, your daughter is beautiful, and our son is lucky to have her. She showed us all of that in the most undeniable way possible.”
Mary bowed slightly at him, and Ashley looked wonderingly at her husband.
Luke added, “I think you’ll just have to take my word that I think my Ashley’s beautiful, that sex with her is beautiful, and that I am lucky to have her. I don’t think she’ll let me show you.”
Ashley leapt into his lap and began pounding on his chest in mixed mirth and annoyance. “Damn straight I’m not gonna show ’em!”
And then she kissed him, long and hard.
Plenty show enough for me.
The Taylor wedding party broke camp after lunch, hauling about half of what we’d brought out to a park on the south side of town for Joss and Allison’s public wedding reception, the same place we’d held ours.
The newlyweds stayed a few hours, then left to catch a flight out of Grand Junction for Jamaica, a honeymoon gift from Joss’ parents.
Vajayjay left soon after, needing to drive back to Salt Lake.
That kicked off the party exodus, dispersing the two joined families until some other event brought us all back together.