Oh god, I was so horny.
I was watching dirty movies whenever I wasn't at school, I was masturbating for hours every night. I'd sit in the lecture hall, twirling a shiny, jet-black curl of hair, eyes not registering my pathology professor droning away. While my classmates scribbled notes furiously on either side of me, I would be concocting daydreams filled with big cocks, silk sheets, and the wild animal humping. I had been fantasizing about sex so much I was hardly paying any attention to my ten classes. That's right, ten classes -- such is the life of a medical student. But just because we're busy doesn't mean we don't have needs, special needs that need special attention...
It wasn't that I wasn't getting any action at all. I had gotten engaged over the summer to lovely man my parents introduced me to at a family gathering. He was kind and thoughtful, successful and ruggedly good-looking. We became good friends very quickly, and with our parents' encouragement, we decided to get engaged. You might wonder at the quickness of it, but arranged marriages are quite common in my family, and I have never been the romantic type. Ali and I were both very pleased that we had found someone we'd like to spend the rest of our lives with. I thought that he was probably one of the only men that could ever make me happy.
After the engagement, we were finally allowed to spend time alone together, which I hoped meant that we could safely fool around a bit. Whenever we did have time to meet between our respectively busy schedules, there was plenty of snuggling, kissing, and sometimes light petting, but never anything more than that. We both came from conservative immigrant families, and as much as I might want it, there would be no sex before marriage. Too bad for me, the closet nympho/horny virgin.
One particularly desperate night just before the fall semester had begun, I was dying to be fucked, so horny that I couldn't keep my hands off Ali as we made out on the couch in front of The Daily Show. He had spent the day helping me move into my new apartment near the medical school. Watching him lifting boxes all day, all sweaty and oh so sexy, it was all I could do to keep from running to the bathroom and wanking off. My poor aching pussy was screaming for release. We had taken our (separate) showers and eaten a take-out dinner in front of the tube. Now we were cuddling in each others' arms watching Jon Stewart, usually my favorite show, and the last thing I could think about was politics.
"Babe?" I ventured.
A kiss on the forehead -- how chaste, I thought ironically. "Yeah sweetheart?"
"You know what I can't wait for? More than being a bride or having this wedding?"
"Hm?"
"I can't wait for our wedding night."
A squeeze around the shoulders. And silence.
Another try, then. "I can't wait for us to make love for the first time. It's been all I can think about for the last few days." I looked into his eyes, yearning to see some of my lust reflected there in the glare of the television. There was something there, but I couldn't quite discern what.
"Meets, you know, I think it's going to be the most amazing night of our lives." A peck on the nose -- this particular habit is one of the many reasons why I'm ecstatic that we found each other. He looked deeply into my brown eyes, probably seeing more there than I'd care to have him know just yet. "You are a spectacular woman, Meetra, and believe me, I can't wait to be your man in every," another nose-peck, "sense," this time, a real kiss, "of the word."
He smiled a slow, easy smile that went straight to my soul, before he kissed me deeply, his hands wound in my hair. I kissed him back urgently, more brazenly than I ever had before, physical need driving my actions. I teased his lips with my tongue, and I heard his breathing start to quicken. My hands were fluttering everywhere, now on his shoulders, now his waist, now pulling one of his hands down from my neck and pressing it on my breast. My breath sucked in from the electricity of it; I had never felt another person's touch there, and the feeling was almost too heady to bear. I gasped, and Ali sucked on my lips, just grazing them with his teeth.
Words had long since abandoned me, and I was feeling nothing but pure lust. Every time Ali's fingers brushed my swollen nipples, pertly poking through bra and t-shirt, I moaned from the icy shiver running down my back. I rejoiced to feel his heart pounding so close to my own, to feel his crotch harden against my leg. Would I now finally get release? But the more I writhed and pressed against him with years of repressed sexual energy, the more he seemed to slow down and pull away. Was he some kind of saint? Why had I chosen to marry such a prude, I thought angrily. But then again, I am a rather insistent person. I thought I had an idea to bring him around.
I had just managed to get my hand inside the waistband of his jeans before he pulled it right back out again.
"Um, why don't we wait on that for a bit? Don't you think it'll make it that much more special on the big night?"
No!!! I want your dick now, I want you to fuck me now! my soaked panties screamed. But I heard my voice say, "Well, yeah, I guess you're right. I do want our first time to be perfect -- so I guess we can take it slow." Reluctantly, I let him pull me up into a more upright position. So much for building honesty in the relationship. I respected him for his restraint, but I was still so horny, damn it! I crossed my arms over my throbbing nipples and felt like crying from shame and frustration, but I felt Ali watching me, so I forced myself to stay composed.
I think he must have read the lust and disappointment in my eyes, because before I knew it, Ali was kissing me full on the mouth, with a little tongue for the first time ever, and surprise! Ali slid a hand over my throbbing crotch and began to grind me slowly through my jeans.
I almost sobbed with relief as we continued to kiss deeply, Ali's urgency now beginning to match my own. I pulled him closer to me, moaning as I felt the weight of his body above mine, his straining erection on my thigh. My legs spread and drew up reflexively, at least one managing to wrap around his beautifully shaped ass. Ali pulled away from my mouth, propping himself on one arm, the other busy between my legs. I dug my fingernails into his ripped arms, and he slowly rubbed the tent of his jeans against the inside of my thigh as he watched my face.
We were rocking rhythmically now, my hips bucking to match his hand. Obviously, I was so randy at this point that it didn't take much to put me over the edge. I arched my pussy against his hand as he rubbed, grinding my clit against the inseam of my jeans, and I came hard and fast, too fast, whimpering into Ali's starched collar, already wishing it wasn't over so soon.
As my fiancé discreetly excused himself to the restroom to take care of his own business, I was left on the sofa, nipples and clit throbbing, unfulfilled and unsated. The muskiness of my crotch and the freshness of his laundered shirt still filled my nose.
Several months later, I still hadn't seen Ali since our dry-humping session in August. He had gone overseas to work on a business deal, and I was counting the days until our winter wedding. I had come to accept the fact that my marriage night would probably be the next time I had any hope of getting any. My attention was so diverted between the wedding planning and fantasizing about sex that it was a wonder I didn't fail any classes. My secret vibrator (known to some as 'electric toothbrush') was all that kept me from flying out to Dubai and humping Ali, wherever he was. But I was still just as horny, just as dissatisfied since August.
What was unusual were my fantasies. Since I had met Ali, these had been rigidly restricted to imagining my wedding night, wild lovemaking in elaborate positions, with the only variables being my choice of lingerie and the particulars of our honeymoon suite. Now I found myself reverting to those secret fantasies I had concocted in college as I lay in bed touching myself, listening to my suitemate being fucked by her boyfriend on the other side of the wall. Night after night, I imagined myself on the other side of the wall with Jane, tasting her lithe body and feeling her touch on my skin.
