The Wedding Palace was similar to a plantation villa - with its two-story squat, petty bourgeois wings and vulgarity of bellied columns. Snow-white, he sailed through the dazzling blue of the noon with a swaggering ship, widely cutting the foam of the greenery. A crowd of commoners filled the wide square in front of it, painted with flags and gel balls, billowing banners with declarations of love to me and screaming in anticipation of my name. Above them floated advertising airship.

I drove into the square in two cars: my unique purple-black Mercedes was in front, followed by a vicious purple limousine with concubines. We stopped at the stairs. Throwing open the rear doors, my Blond Stervy came out of the Mercedes, and the dorks in the crowd admired howl, whistled, cheered at the sight of dazzlingly beautiful twins in a black latex uniform styled as an SS. Latex hugged their naked bodies, contouring each fold, each pimple on the circles. In honor of the holiday, the Blond Stervy wore ceremonial caps with a high crown. Ignoring the males, they took their positions, and one of them opened the door for me, leaned over, stretched out a black, sparkling latex arm to help me out.

Heart face gently caressing platinum curls, beautifully curled bottom, snub nose, slightly raising the upper sponge, capriciously-full lower lip, icy blue look ... I recognized Stella by the daring brows. Gave her a hand and got out of the car. The crowd roared in greeting. Having responded to her with a majestic gesture, I admired Alice, who haughtily stretched herself with a string and played with the stack of the manager of the point. On the lapels of her uniform, the silver of the aggressively stylized first letters of my name - AT - Arthur Tittenfack sparkled sharply.

Oh, God, how infuriating me is the vulgar translation of the glorious last name of my ancient family into Russian! Arthurka-Sitskoeb, what could be more disgusting!

The attendants of the Wedding Palace - two young, flexible persons in short fitting dresses of heavenly blue and similar caps with veils - hurriedly rolled the carpet to my feet. When they had finished, with such humiliating humility, mixed with fear, they looked at me with their huge dark eyes of natural victims, that I could not resist.

“Give them business cards,” Alice whispered.

She barely audibly sniffed and abruptly shoved the black rectangles to the girls, where below the phone number with playful tie was “Holding my breath, waiting for your call”, and even lower, in a strict Gothic style, it was declared: Code and punishable by serving in brothels for a period of so many years. " I will have them, certainly in a pair, when I want small ones.

Having received business cards, both girls sank onto the asphalt and covered their faces with handles. For joy, I guess. If they didn’t want my attention, why did they look so sexy?

Took a look at the jubilant crowd. As five beds among the people stood out wedding groups - overdressed, bright, excited. Ahead, in exquisite wedding dresses stood adorable brides - girls whom I fucked today. High grooms in black — men leading me their women — stood with them.

I went to the door.Blond bitches followed me. The bright sun cast forward our black shadows. Drone-cameras were spinning around like flies. The stinkers wrote out such steep eights with their hips that I admired, and the dorks simply choked on saliva. At the door I was greeted by the headmistress with a bow and led me to the observation room.

It was a small, light, rounded room, almost empty: only a burgundy antique chair for me and a low post-bollard for brides. A huge, frosted glass window had a sullenly aged, balding doctor. Nodding to him, I walked over to the chair. The blond Svervy closed the doors, firing a single camera drone, passed behind my back and stood there, putting one hand on the back of the chair. I pulled off the glove with my left hand, preparing it for kisses. My heart sank sweetly in anticipation. For a few long minutes, everything froze, only the drone was buzzing, broadcasting on-line from the huge screens hung on the facade of the Wedding Palace.

Finally, the door opened, and the first bride entered the lookout. It was the same platinum blonde, the celebration of plastic surgery, hand-made, so to speak. She was wearing a luxurious, with a touch of blue, a wedding dress of a multitude of translucent skirts and a corset embroidered with pearls, which left round, tanned shoulders nude. Round breasts, barely covering the nipples, hugging the bodice, stylized as two huge flowers of Kala. The head of the young needlewoman was crowned with a sapphire diadem, long sapphire catkins streaming from the ears onto the bare shoulders, on the chest lay a refined sapphire necklace. Weightless, embroidered with thin golden threads, veils embraced her from behind. The pale, slightly trembling with excitement, the bride, according to etiquette, sat down in a deep curtsy, almost throwing out smooth round tits, and said her name in a thin puppet voice.

The name does not matter, I will call her Doll.

Stuck in curtsy, the bride obediently waited for me to admire her and nod mercifully. At this signal, she straightened up, sifted through to me, dropped to one knee — the skirts with the wide dome lay down on the floor — and softly pressed soft lips to my hand. Hardened. I was thinking of getting the brides to kiss their shoes, but the Blond Bitch said it would damage my image. For a long time and with pleasure I looked at the luxurious tits that turned out to be nearby, smooth platinum hair, silky lying on my black sleeve, fluttering long eyelashes. Very high quality made a girl. And these her frightened, but gullible eyes, while she minced to the chair ... This adoration in her eyes ... No, I will not disgrace her. Today will be the best in her life.

I moved my fingers. The doll fell away from the hand, happily smiled at me, flashing blue in the color of sapphires, with a glance, and returned to the pillar-column. Standing facing me, the bride put a corset on the cabinet, with her neckline hanging down and lifting her eyes, as it was supposed to, to me. She handcuffed, lifting up numerous skirts. The doctor frowned at her from behind, dug under her skirts and began to dig there. I admired the opening of the neckline - huge halos looked out from behind the edges of the petals and gently turned pink - and the beautiful face of the Doll. Chattering camera. The crowd outside held its breath, not taking his eyes off the giant screens.

The doctor straightened up and, putting on disposable gloves, said with inexpressible disgust:

- Virgo!

The crowd in the street exhaled. Laughing happily, the bride straightened her skirts and rushed out of the lookout, at the very threshold, allowing herself a flirtatious look in my direction.

I smiled, my heart ached affectionately. What a miracle, the right word!

The second came chubby brown-haired woman. True, today, pulled down by a corset so that her rounds heaved almost to the chin, she did not look plump. The bodice of the dress was straight, ending a little higher than the halos, on top of the gentle hills covered by gas fabric, converging over the left shoulder lush bow. The bride leaned in a deep curtsy, gas fabric dangerously stretched. I hesitated, hoping it would break, then reluctantly nodded.Sliding to the chair, the bride dropped to one knee and fell to her hand. A huge satin crinoline skirt spread over almost half a room, and jeweled flowers glittered in brown hair. And suddenly I felt that her lips on my arm parted, and between them a hot tongue danced sharply and wetly. Encouragingly smiling, I moved my fingers, allowing the girl to take a seat on the bollard. I will call her Minx.

Hanging out the titties, Minx lifted the crinolines and smiling slyly at me (charming dimples formed on her cheeks), spread a bow on her shoulder. Transparent glass fabric with chest. Inhale, and a hefty seven ...