Wild Sex and Weddings
Some people have very strange hobbies.
Have you ever noticed that there’s a ‘spare uncle’ in almost every group photo of a sixties or seventies wedding?
He is the little man on the end, grinning inanely into the camera. His jacket cuffs overhang his knuckles and his wrinkled trousers sag over his down-at-heel shoes. A nylon shirt with a fly-away collar and an ill-matched tie usually completes this ensemble. There is every chance this epitome of sartorial inelegance is my late Uncle Eddie, bus driver and weekend wedding crasher.
Eddie, a committed bachelor, carefully researched the wedding announcements every week looking for large working-class weddings. He’d buy the appropriate buttonhole, turning up a minute or two before the service started. He’d smile shyly, nodding his hellos, then take a back pew. No one wanted to cause embarrassment by asking who he was, each family assuming he belonged to the other.
At the reception, Eddie would seek out the unpopular maiden aunt. (There is always one) She’s the oddball who must be invited for family reasons. He would tell her a couple of jokes then spin her a yarn of a lost wallet to scrounge free drinks. The poor wallflower, flattered by his attention and recognising a kindred spirit, willing paid.
If questioned as to his identity, which rarely happened, Eddie would look bemused, scratch his ear and say ‘well, this is where my carers dropped me off.’
They’d call a taxi, give him a slice of wedding cake, and send him home, shaking their heads sympathetically.
As Eddie’s confidence grew, he decided to up his game and crash a posh wedding. There he met the wonderful Wilhelmina A huge but perfectly proportioned lady dressed more garishly than Donald Trump’s Christmas tree. She was displaying Grand Canyon cleavage and a come-hither smile. Unknown to Eddie, Wilhelmina, had an agenda.
After a couple of glasses of champagne and a plateful of canapes, she placed her hand on his thigh, stroking suggestively. She whispered, ‘I have a room here, Eddie, dearest, and I need sex. So, how about it, eh?’
Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline and his eyes bulged as a wave of terror engulf him. His only experience of sex was a fumble with Doris Dodds behind the bike shed at school. They had been caught by Mrs Hardaker the R.E teacher. She had shrieked so loudly that Eddie ran off screaming, desperately trying to pull his trousers up from around his knees. He tripped and fell in the playground, hapless lad, exposing his bare backside before the whole school. Deeply traumatised, Eddie never tried sex again.
‘Er…oh…righto’ he stammered ‘I’ll…I’ll just have to nip to the gents first.’
Eddie’s narrow shoulders went through the toilet window easily enough, but his bulbous backside got wedged. His short fat legs were kicking frantically when Wilhelmina caught up with him. Grabbing his waistband, she unfastened his belt and slid his pants, Y-fronts, and slip-on shoes off in one deft movement. Taking him by the tackle she drew him back in screaming.
Wilhelmina pushed him into a cubicle still firmly gripping his family heirlooms, her free hand clamped over his mouth. ‘Listen, Eddie, I know you’re a gate crasher’ she said, her eyes dark with lust. ‘Do as you’re told, my dear, and I’ll not tell that big nephew of mine to thump you and throw you bare-arsed into the street.’
A petrified Eddie meekly obeyed and was led, re-clothed and trembling to Wilhelmina’s room.
The sex was a revelation to Eddie as Wilhelmina demonstrated the pleasures an experienced woman could give a man. He wept tears of joy as she insisted on doing it again and again until both were exhausted.
Over breakfast in their room, Wilhelmina dropped her bombshell. ‘Eddie, I knew what you were up to because I’m doing it myself’ she said, grinning like a split watermelon. ‘This time I’m a long-lost cousin who emigrated to Australia and who just happened to be in the country on holiday.’
Eddie’s jaw dropped ‘and that big nephew?’
‘Don’t know him from Adam, Eddie, that was just a ploy to bed you.’
Eddie gasped. ‘Good god, gate-crashing’s a bit risky for a lone woman, ain’t it?’
Wilhelmina threw her head back and loosed a great guffaw, her big breasts jiggling like frolicking puppies. ‘Risky? Not at all! Weddings are always cheerful events with lots of good food and booze.’ She winked, ‘and there’s always a spare uncle who’s up for a shag. It’s ideal for a lusty lass like me.’
Both laughed so loud and long the people in the adjoining room banged on the wall. Over the next hour, they happily swapped stories of their escapades then she reached for him. ‘Time for a quickie before checking out time, whaddya say?’
Eddie and Wilhelmina became firm friends, joining forces to crash weddings as a “respectable” couple. In 1976, after a year of wild sex and weddings, they got married in a lavish ceremony with friends and relatives coming from far and wide. It was a sunny, blissful occasion with champagne and bonhomie flowing freely.
A week later, browsing the wedding photos, they were surprised to see an innocuous little man in an ill-fitting suit on the edge of the group. Shocked, they pointed, simultaneously asking ‘who the hell’s that?’ Then they collapsed in peels of hysterical laughter.