I hadn't told my new husband that I was a virgin, because I wanted to save the news as a surprise for our wedding night. A truly delightful surprise for this day and age, I hoped.
I was the one who was surprised, and it was anything but delightful.
The wedding had been a grand affair. My dad made a lot of money in real estate, and he pulled out all the stops. Nothing too good for little Charlotte, his only daughter. The wedding went off without a hitch, except for my trembling arms and knocking knees. It was all too beautiful--the flowers, whose perfume made me almost dizzy, the wonderful singer, the expensive dress and the matching outfits on the bridesmaids.
Even the minister was great. A black man with a deeply resonant voice, he was quite handsome, with his sexy mustache and muscular build. Probably it was because I was already wet, thinking about the wedding night to come, but when he looked at me there was a strange feeling of intimacy that made me tingle all over.
Nerves? Ha! Everyone thought I was just jittery, when in fact I was so hot from dreams of having sex for the first time that I could barely restrain myself from grabbing Rob by the cock and doing him right there on the altar.
The reception was fabulous, with a huge cake, flowing champagne, sexy music, and even sexier dancing. I was teetering on the edge of orgasm the whole time, and almost went over the edge when Rob gave me a deep kiss as we danced.
Then the minister, Rev. James, grabbed me for a slow dance, and as he pressed up against me, I felt him against my already quivering hotness, and went wide-eyed at the size of him. It was too much. A long slow shiver warmed my whole body, and it was so delicious I nearly cried out. This wasn't like one of those finger-induced happy endings I'd grown to love; no, this was real, the thing I'd read so much about and desired for so long. At once, shame and embarrassment washed over me, but somehow that made it even better, more wicked, and I came again. I knew Rev. James was aware of what was happening, but he didn't let on.
I wasn't a virgin anymore, except technically. My hymen was intact, but in a very real way, I'd just had sex with a man. Not that Rob would ever know. He was still going to take my maidenhead, and I knew he would think being the first special and amazing.
But it didn't happen that way.
In the pricey hotel room daddy had rented for our wedding night, we went to bed at once and got right down to business. Rob seemed annoyed when I cried out during penetration, and the shock that came over him when I bled a little was almost too much for him.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed. "Are you on your period?"
"I'm a virgin!" I cried.
"What! You can't be! Charlie, you're nineteen years old! You mean to tell me you've never been laid? Ever?"
By then I was sobbing, and all thoughts of sex were gone. Rob got up, nude, and poured us each a glass of expensive French Champagne, and tried to back-track and apologize, but the moment was gone. I had wanted to surprise him. It never occurred to me that he'd be so stunned, and even a bit disgusted.
Not a good start for a hoped-for perfect marriage.
We talked it out, got drunk, and finally had the kind of sex I'd dreamed of, but my feelings for Rob had changed, no way around it. I still loved him, but a cold knot of resentment inside me refused to go away.
I thought about suggesting a marriage counselor, funny as it seems. On our wedding night? I could only imagine Rob's reaction. Would he be angry? Hurt? Or would he laugh his ass off? I suspected the latter.
Still, I needed to talk to someone. One of my girlfriends? No way. My dad? Uh-uh. Then who?
The preacher, I thought. Rev. James. He'd probably counseled lots of unhappy brides. I had a mental picture of him doing just that, bending some young thing over his desk and consoling her with that huge love-rod of his. I broke out in a sweat thinking about it.