Dear Thaddeus

"I will." She cooed. "I accept my grandson's hand in unholy matrimony."

We kissed.

Over the next few days, the household exploded in a burst of joyous activity. Grandmother giggled and blushed like a young girl as she fussed over the details of the ceremony and her wardrobe. Wen Chan and the maids joined in the laughter and smiles. Everywhere in the house, happiness perfumed our moments. The grumpy old sun even managed to shake off the shrouds of San Francisco fog and blare the good news of sunlight through our windows.

On an unusually temperate Friday evening, a group of grandmother's oldest friends, including Mrs. Douglas, gathered in the garden at the back of her mansion. I draped myself in a fine, tailored tuxedo. Doctor Ignatius, for that is the name of the cantankerous but charming sage with ginger hair, rapped lightly at my chamber door.

"Are you ready, son?" He inquired garrulously as he stood in my opened door. "You look damn ready."

I nodded and straightened my bow tie.

"I don't you envy you, kid," he continued, looping his arm in mine and leading me down the hallway. "Eveline is a damn fine woman."

I laughed in agreement.

The Doctor and I proceeded downstairs to the back patio. Below us, grandmother's friends sat in rows of chairs aligned along a central path carpeted in the petals of black roses. The lustrous path led to a bower overladen with orchids and dark crimson roses. The ginger-haired man and I paused and then began to walk slowly down the aisle, greeted at every step by the happy upturned faces of sailors, whores, dancers, and priests and devotees of a dozen ancient, antediluvian sects. Doctor Ignatius deposited me under the bower and withdrew to its side.

I looked up to the patio to behold my grandmother. I drew my breath in sharply. She wore a glittering red satin gown with sweeping hems. Two bright ivory sashes crossed her ample chest. A bevy of pearl necklaces fell from her long, shapely neck. Her lustrous silver hair was sculpted into a tower above her head. She proceeded towards me, arm in arm with Wen Chan, casting smiles on her friends like gold doubloons.

I beamed at her as she approached. Wen Chan guided her next to me and I grasped her soft, silky hand in mine. Father Astrubal, the head priest of one of San Francisco's oldest and most storied pagan congregations, emerged from the seated crowd and stood before us. He smiled and raised his hand.

"We are gathered here on this most propitious sabbath to join these two lovers together as man and wife in unholiest of matrimonies."

The crowd sighed in unison.

Father Astrubal rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you, James Phelan, take this woman, your grandmother, to be your unlawfully wedded wife?"

He paused.

"To enjoy in carnal pleasure. To debase with unspoken desire. To explore the limits of man's moral and carnal laws."

"I do," I uttered solemnly, gazing into the priest's eyes.

"And you, Eveline Phelan." He turned to grandmother. "Do you take this man, your grandson, to be your unlawfully wedded husband?

Again, he paused.

"To share the most corrupt and blasphemous relations. To follow your passions beyond the limits of human law and order. To defile all that is sacred with your body and your desires."

Grandmother turned to me with glowing eyes. "I do."

I took her hands in mine.

"I now pronounce you grandson and grandmother united as husband and wife."

The crowd cheered lustily. Father Astrubal raised his hands to quiet them.

"You may now kiss the bride."

I bent my lips to grandmother's and she parted hers. Our tongues fluttered together as we bathed in each others' gazes.

"And now," Father Astrubal intoned. "You may fuck the bride."

The crowd erupted into huzzahs and grandmother and I broke our kiss.

As we had rehearsed, many times over the preceding days, I turned grandmother around and pulled loose the ties that bound her wedding gown together. It dropped to the ground in a blazing, scintillating puddle of silk and lace at her feet. She was naked except for the long strings of pearls around her neck. Her broad, fleshy posterior and wide shoulders gleamed like alabaster. I doffed my jacket, slipped off my tie, and began to slowly unbutton my shirt.

The crowd was now chanting words from some other language. Grandmother peered over her shoulder at me with a wicked, lascivious grin. I unclasped my trousers and stepped out of them. My wondrously enhanced cock sprang into view and the crowd's chanting grew into a frenzied murmur. I placed one hand on grandmother's hip and grasped my phallus with the other. I ran my cock head up and down the deep canyon that separated her plump ass cheeks. She wiggled her hips as I positioned the tip of my manhood at her miraculous, silken nether lips.

With a shout, I plunged my long, hard cock deep into her quim. She squealed with delight and commenced to pump her stout posterior back and forth along my manhood. I grasped her hips in my hands and plowed into her with force and energy. We quickly reached a pitch of animal-like, frenzied copulation, our bodies shaking and shuddering together. The voices of our assembled friends crowded into my ears, surpassed only by the deep and hearty groans of grandmother.

Sensing the finale approaching, I thrust my straining cock to its ultimate depth and slid my hands onto grandmother's voluminous breasts, squeezing them as she turned her face to mine and plunged her tongue into my mouth. Our bodies paused, consumed by the jolting energies that sparked across my cock, the bridge that joined us. With a mutual shout of joy, my manhood erupted into grandmother's quim and her body was wracked by tremors of bliss. We held our mouths open and mashed together as our bodies dissolved into ecstasy.

Later, as our orgasm ebbed away, I turned grandmother around to face me. We hugged and kissed. And I witnessed the crowd below melting into a general tangle of arms, legs, and sex organs. A communal moaning and shouting quickly supplanted our own.

Later, every one of us revelling our nakedness, we drank champagne.

And so, Thaddeus, here I am on the Barbary Coast with my new wife, while you float in peace somewhere above us. I'm certain of this. Connubial bliss has much to recommend it and I have much more of my account to scribble. But, I have an appointment below now. Grandmother, her breasts bedecked in sheer silk and lace, is urgent in her ambition to demonstrate our conjugal duties to the small but select crowd seated on their upholstered chairs.

Au revoir, mon copain.