The Wedding Night

I was a virgin on my wedding night, and I was glad I waited. I could give my husband, the man who was going to love me for the rest of my life, this precious gift I was saving.

My husband was not a virgin, and I preferred it that way. He was fifteen years older than me, more mature, more experienced, established, successful.

Our wedding was a fairy tale dream, just like I imagined since I was a little girl. Traditionally, the bride's family pays for the wedding, but I come from a lot less money than my husband, and he insisted on paying. I'm glad he did. If my mom had to pay, we would have had an outdoor barbecue and invited maybe 20 guests. With my new husband footing the bill, we were able to throw a party for all our friends and family in a five star luxury resort. We had an open bar, a live band, a three-course meal, a layer cake, a chocolate fountain, flowers on the walls and at every table, and ice sculptures of swans. Swans! Made of ice!

It was a whirlwind night that passed all too fast. Men in tuxedos and women in gowns congratulating me. Everyone smiling, drinking, and dancing. My husband held me close at every dance, his eyes filled with love.

And now, he carried me over the threshold into the honeymoon suite. And all the anticipation of all those years was going to be met by a night of passion. I heard about it nonstop since I was barely done with childhood. I dreamt about it. I saw it on TV and movies and once or twice online. I read about it. I came close to it a couple of times but never went all the way. And tonight was the night. I was more than ready.

When we entered the suite, the scene was set. The lights were dim, and candles were burning on either side of the bed. There were a dozen roses in a vase on the table in the corner of the room. The bed had been turned, and the corner of the covers had been pulled back, inviting us to lay between the sheets.

And then I got nervous. I wasn't ready to be thrown on the bed. "Put me down," I requested. My new husband complied. He set me gently on my feet. I breathed a series of long breaths.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I just need a minute. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Take your time. We have the rest of our lives."

I breathed again, and decided to explore my surroundings. I walked over to a soft, plush loveseat by the wall. I brushed my hand against it, and then sat down.

"Perhaps I'll sit here all night," I thought to myself.

It's not that I didn't want him inside me, badly. I was just so nervous.

Sitting down relaxed me. I shortly realized I couldn't sit there all night, and I didn't want to. So, I brought out my usual feminine charm that my mom had taught me, that I learned from other girls at school, that I learned from TV. The feminine charm that had landed me the man before me.

I leaned back into the couch, thrusting my chest out at the same time. I threw my hair to the side and bobbed my head. I dropped my mouth open, and flashed a warm, inviting smile.

"You look terrified," he said.

I thought it was a warm, inviting smile. I guess I couldn't mask my emotions.

I tried again. I played with my hair, turned my body sideways away from him, while turning my head back towards him, and batted my eyes. Before we entered the suite, as the party was ending, I made sure that my makeup was perfect. My eyelashes were thick and lush with mascara. My eyeliner accentuated my natural coloring. I drew one hand to the shoulder strap of my dress, signaling that I was going to take it off at any moment. If he wasn't going to come to me, my eyes batting, my dress about to come off, then he wasn't human.

It was all silly, really. I was his bride, and it was our wedding night. What more feminine charm did I need to use on him? I already had him, and we were already going to make love. But it was my habit to tease, and pout, and play. And so I teased. I brought my finger to my mouth and kissed it, while the finger of my other hand was still playing with my hair. I cocked my head to the side and gave him my best come-hither stare. I was ready for him again. I couldn't make it any clearer short of holding up a sign.

He walked over to me, slowly, cautiously, not making any sudden moves, like I was an easily startled deer, and he didn't want me to run.

He gradually approached the side of the loveseat, leaned down, and kissed me. The electricity from his lips made it all come back. Of course we were going to make love, and it was going to be wonderful. Why did I even doubt it for a second? He could have taken me right there. Wetness flowed inside me, and I wanted him immediately.

I felt his rough, manly stubble scratch against my face. My new husband was one of those men who always had stubble, except for an hour or two after shaving. I liked it. It showed me he was a man. A grown man.

Some of my girlfriends teased me for dating an older man. They said I had daddy issues. But I say to hell with those jealous bitches. I found a man that makes me feel safe and protected, a man who has money so we won't ever have to worry about the power shutting off or getting evicted or going to a public hospital where the reject doctors tell everyone, including gunshot victims, to get some rest and walk it off.

And he wasn't that much older, only 15 years. He was in his mid-30s and I was in my early 20s. It was a perfectly normal age difference. Women marry older men all the time. Most of the time even.

And most importantly, he made me happy.

He kissed me deeply, tenderly, gently, taking his time with my mouth, easing me into the thrill of tonight's romance. He brushed his hand against my cheek, softly. He knelt down beside me, just like he did that magic night that he proposed. I loved to see him kneel at my side, while I sat erect, imagining myself a queen, and him my loyal subject. Most of the time, he was my king. But right now he was my subject, and he was going to please me.

He kissed the side of my neck, as I lifted my head up and to the side, exposing the full length of my vulnerable neck to his lips and teeth. He reached a hand up and placed it on my left breast, over the dress, and then brought his hand up to the back of my neck to pull me in closer to him. I undid the straps of my dress, and down fell the top, exposing my naked breasts to him.

Like a hungry child desperate for milk he suckled on my nipple, squeezing the bottom of my breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. I looked down at him, licking, sucking, rubbing, and he looked as though he was transported to paradise.

He worked himself into a frenzy playing with my breast, until he wanted more. He lifted me up under my arms, off the loveseat, and pressed my back against the wall. He kissed me again, and placed his hand on my sex, over my wedding dress. With manic hands, he lifted more and more of the skirt of my dress until he could place a hand underneath. This wedding dress was awfully bulky. It was going to have to come off soon or we would never get to feel each other.

His hand under my dress, he started rubbing my dripping wet pussy. He placed two fingers inside, and moved them up and down inside me. Up and down. He kissed my other nipple, the one he missed when I was on the loveseat. He always gave equal time to my breasts. Suckling on one nipple, fingering me harder and harder, I was getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate me and take the wedding gift I had waited so long to give to him.

He lifted me up in his arms, just as he had when we first crossed the threshold into the suite, except this time I was ready. My arms were around his neck, and I was admiring his handsome face. There was power and strength in his face. And signs that he was experienced in life. He had one or two wrinkles from worrying about work, and burdens, and investing money. His hairline was just barely starting to recede. He had a few grey hairs in his otherwise brown stubble. A grown man's face.

He carried me to the bed where I was to lose my virginity. Four solid cherry wood bedposts, a silk canopy, and so many pillows arranged by the headboard, way more pillows than we would ever need.

He lay me down on the plush bedcover, and leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips, while I lay still on the bed, like Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White. And just like those Disney princesses, I lifted my body up the moment he kissed me, my lips tasting his.

He placed his hands gently on my shoulders, turned me so that I was now sitting on the side of the bed, legs dangling down, and he gently pushed me back, back, into the soft downy mattress.

"There you go baby," he said. "Lean back."

He lifted the skirt of my wedding dress up, up. Hiked it up ever higher, as I moved my hips to allow the fabric to rest under me. This dress was definitely going to have to come off. It was very bulky.

He knelt down at the side of the bed, once again my servant kneeling to please his queen. He pulled off my panties, the final barrier to my sex. He pushed my legs apart and back, and gazed at my virginal pussy, already wet for him.

He stared at my exposed pussy for ten seconds, admiring it like it was the greatest work of art he had ever seen.

"Your pussy," he said, his lips nearly brushing my sex. "It's beautiful."

I lifted my head up and looked at him. My jaw was dropped and I was already starting to feel tingles up my body, even though he hadn't licked me yet. I heard his breathing get heavier and heavier, he was so excited to put his lips on my pussy.

Two large fingers of his left hand spread my lips. Two large fingers of his right hand rubbed my clit in strong circles. Each circle sending a shock wave through my body.

"You smell fantastic," he declared, and he dove his mouth right on top of my wet and stimulated clit. Up and down he licked. Up and down, his mouth clasped tight against my pussy.

"Oh," I moaned, as my eyes rolled up to the back of my head. I grabbed the back of my thighs and lifted them back, presenting myself to this wonderful man who married me and was now bringing me to ecstasy. He'd only just started to lick me, but even so I was ready for him to enter me and never leave. I didn't need any more foreplay. I was ready for him. Heck, I was ready for two of him.

But he wasn't going to enter me yet. He was taking his time, enjoying himself. He was watching me as I moaned, and taking pleasure in every one of my gasps. He kept licking my sensitive nub, harder and harder.

"Oh," I moaned again. I smiled broader than I ever had in my life. And this was just the beginning.

He slid two fingers inside me, and pushed them back and forth.

I lifted my hips up and down against his face, up and down, to match the rhythm of his fingers and mouth.

"Oh, fuck," I moaned.

He kissed my clit in response, tenderly, like a lover.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Ah," I whimpered. I couldn't even form the word, "yes."

He kept going. He continued to lick, to suck, and to move his fingers inside me, while I jerked around against his face like a bronco. I was frenzied, and greedy. I needed that orgasm. I was going to take that orgasm.

And then, with one jerky motion of my hips against his face, with my clit brushing up against his tongue one last time, I felt it. The sweet release. I came all over his face with a yelp, as my body quivered. Then I lay back down on the bed, calm and peaceful.

He stood up, and I saw my pussy juices dripping down his chin, and down his neck. My juices against his skin a glistening sign of how much pleasure he had given me, and how much pleasure he wanted to give me.

He wanted me ready, and pleased, and happy, and wet. And I was.

I was flooding down there. More ready for sex than any woman has ever been in history. My husband wiped my juices from his chin, and he knew it was time. He pulled my legs towards him, so that my ass was just barely at the edge of the bed. He took his coat, bowtie, and shirt off - I couldn't believe they were on this long - and revealed the manly physique underneath. The firm pecs, the chiseled abs, the muscular arms, the broad shoulders. He no longer looked like my kneeling servant. He looked like a warrior, about to take the spoils of war. He rubbed my inner thigh, brushed his hand against my tender pussy, massaged my breasts once more. He undid his cummerbund, the fancy sash they use as a belt for tuxedos, threw it to the side, and rocked his pelvis against me, still wearing his pants, rubbing his bulge against my pussy, giving me a taste of what was to come.

He dropped his pants and boxers, and displayed proudly his fully erect manhood, which was pointing straight towards the sky in excitement. He didn't even wait to take off his shoes or socks, or fully remove his pants. With one hand rubbing my pussy and one hand guiding his shaft, he rubbed the tip against my pussy. I scooched back. I didn't want him to enter me while he was standing, so distant. I wanted a glorious first time, with him right on top of me. I understood that he was eager, and I could see the lust in his eyes, but he was going to have to wait another minute until we were positioned just right.

As I scuttled back, on my elbows and heels, he crawled forward, on his knuckles and knees, always just above me, looking down at me like prey. Somewhere during our slow migration across the bed, he managed to kick off his shoes and pants. When we were both fully on the bed, I stopped, waiting for him to enter.

He stopped when I did, and, resting on just one fist, he took his other hand and tried to guide his shaft into my pussy, but was stopped by my wedding dress, which had shifted down as I scooted back, and was now forming a last-ditch guard to defend my precious virginity. That damned dress! That damned horrible, bulky wedding dress, always getting in the way! It served its purpose. Why was it still here?

"One moment," I said. And with a shimmy of my hips and bringing up my knees, I pushed down that infernal dress so it was finally off me, and I threw it down to the floor past the foot of the bed, where it could no longer give us any trouble.

Our fully nude bodies were facing each other. Ready for each other. His ready to give. Mine ready to receive. I spread my legs wide apart and back. He brought his hand down to his manhood, grabbed the base, and guided his shaft, his strong, firm shaft, past my soft and yielding folds, and into my pussy.

Ohmigod. He filled me, and my body felt new sensations it had never felt before. His warm, pulsing cock sent me to an ecstasy I had never known. It felt so right to have him inside me. Even the pain, which was a lot less than I had been led to believe, made it all the much more satisfying.

In and out he moved, gently and slowly. He was still on his fists, with distance between our bodies. I looked down and saw his cock entering me, and moving in and out. Before now, I had imagined what it would look like, and I had seen it before on TV, and movies, and online, but seeing a cock move in and out of me, was more sexy than I ever imagined. I stared in fascination, mesmerized, transfixed by the shaft moving back and forth. And it was inside me!

His pace grew quicker and quicker. Faster and faster he pushed himself inside me, each thrust making me moan.

His arm and shoulder muscles rippled as he held himself up by the fists planted into the mattress. His handsome face held a grim determination of a man on a mission. And the ecstasy of a man making love.

I moaned beneath him, loving each thrust, each pump of his cock inside me. His firm ass muscles were driving him deeper and deeper into me, and I was smiling, writhing, and moaning as I watched it move inside and out.

I lifted my eyes up from his cock, and stared straight up at my new husband. His face was beet red. His skin was glistening with sweat. His veins were swollen and pulsing with exertion. His teeth were clenched in a lusty and determined smile.

And then he brought his face close to mine and stared into my eyes. Our eyes were locked in love.

"Oh!" he shouted with a final, full thrust. His cock pulsed and sprayed hot fluid inside my pussy. He collapsed on top of me. Our bodies pressed against each other.

We held each other.

A minute later, he pulled out, and pushed himself back onto his knees in front of me, looking down at my sweaty body, taking deep breaths.

I was enjoying the warmth and heat of his juices inside me, laying back, relaxing. And then, I started to feel his cum ooze out of my pussy, onto my ass and from there onto the bedspread. I got up on my elbows to look down at what was happening. I saw a wet spot below my pussy, and in addition to the wet spot, I saw a bit of blood. It was fun to see the results of my popped cherry, right there on the bedspread, evidence for my husband that I was truly a virgin and waited for him. But, unexpectedly to me, my husband's cum was oozing out of my pussy. I watched with curiosity as the cum slowly leaked out. The warm goo trickled, down over my anus, and dripped onto the bedspread. Before tonight, I didn't know that the sperm would come out. I knew all about the sperm going in. I guess I thought it just stayed in there, and all traveled upstream. But now I saw that some was spilling out. It tickled just a bit. I enjoyed the feeling of my man's juices flowing down over my skin.

I leaned back and thought about how new all of this was to me. I'd asked people I knew and trusted all about sex, but they never mentioned the semen spilling out, for example, or the importance of taking off the wedding dress as quickly as possible.

I was lying there, wrapped in my own thoughts, when suddenly I was snapped back into the present. My husband's hand was rubbing my pussy, petting it affectionately. I smiled, and placed my hand over his.

"Your pussy is amazing," he said. "I'm going to spend a lot of time in there."

"Good," I replied. "I hope you do."

"You were worth the wait," he said.

"So were you," I replied. "So were you."