The Morning After 81

When I woke up in the morning I was feeling just a little despondent. Do brides normally have a let-down the day after the wedding? I don't know about others but I sure did.

The wedding had been wonderful and the reception had been marvellous. I will admit that I was a little disappointed (a whole lot) that we couldn't afford a honeymoon just yet. Still he'd taken me home (his father's place) and we'd had our wedding night. His father had been considerate enough not to come home that night so we had the place to ourselves.

I have to admit that I quite liked David. (That's Brian's father.) He was a cheerful man and nothing ever seemed to get him down. It was typical of him to absent himself for that first night.

As for the wedding night itself I can't praise it enough. Mainly because there wasn't all that much to praise. Disappointing is one way of describing it, but that description is possibly a bit flattering. Still, it had to get better. When you start at the bottom the only direction is up.

I'd risen early, leaving Brian snoring his head off. I'd slept naked, not surprising seeing it was my wedding night, so I slipped on a peignoir and headed for the kitchen and coffee. I'll tell you right now that my peignoir was chosen with a brand new husband in mind. It was totally sheer and I suspected that with any sort of light behind it it would be transparent. It certainly would not be my choice of garment if anyone but Brian was there, but as there wasn't then why not? I'd at least look sexy and glamorous when I went back to the bedroom.

I was leaning on the kitchen island, elbows on the island and chin in my hands, waiting for the coffee to perk. Did I mention that the peignoir was short? It was. Very short. It would cover everything (for a certain meaning of cover) when I was standing up. Apparently not so when I was leaning over a kitchen island resting my chin on my hands.

A hand slid over my bottom and between my legs, cupping my mound and gently squeezing, the owner of the hand not even having to disturb my peignoir.

I froze and my eyes opened wide, stunned.

Why, you ask?

Because that wasn't my husband's hand. His hands were smooth. This hand was calloused and rough. I knew straightaway who owned that hand. It was someone who does hard manual labour, such as bricklaying. Someone like, say, David, who was a brickie.

"David?" I asked, shocked.

"Good guess, kid," he said, continuing to lightly massage me in a very intimate place.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, feeling somewhat confused.

"Take your time and consider it," he told me. "I'm sure it will come to you."

Well of course it would. It was obvious what he was doing. I just couldn't work out why HE was doing it.

"Um, you shouldn't be doing that," I pointed out.

"Mm," he said, apparently not caring what I thought at this stage.

I was already breathing more heavily. My body was waking up to what was happening and it was liking it. I had to put a stop to this and put a stop to it right now.

"Ah," I said helplessly, not knowing what else to say. This was just wrong. Where was my backbone? I'd spent years beating off boys and now I couldn't even find a way to say stop? It was ridiculous.

"Um," I said, trying to collect my thoughts, changing that abruptly to, "Oh!" The 'oh' was short for 'Oh my god. What are you doing?'

Why didn't I ask the full question? Well, let me tell you, when a man starts to slide a penis into your private parts you know damn well what is going on without needing to ask questions.

That was what David was doing. His cock wasn't just pressing against my mound but pushing between my lips, heading energetically down my passage, a passage that seemed quite eager to accept him. I really had to put a stop to this before it went any further. It had gone too far as it was. (And was going further by the moment, pressing deep into me.)

Before I could get around to saying stop I could feel David's groin mashing against mine, his cock huge and fat and absolutely filling my passage.

He promptly spoke up before I could.

"Now don't say anything and don't move. Just feel me inside you. Think about it. Concentrate on it and feel the pulse of life."

What was he on about? I was damn sure I could feel him inside me. He was just there, filling me. Now that I was deliberately thinking about it, instead of just knowing it was there, I found I knew what he was on about. I could feel his pulse throbbing through his cock, the beat of his heart being carried into me, silently saying I'm alive. Without any action on my part I could feel that my heart beat had adjusted and was beating in time with his. I couldn't believe it.

Well, I could because it was happening. Something else that was happening was that David had taken ruthless advantage of my distraction and was now making love to me. His cock was just sliding smoothly in and out and I was already responding, pushing to meet him as he slipped home.

Oh, but I was in dreamtime now. David's cock was just sliding back and forth with a nice easy action, not trying to drive me wild with desire, but just gently stroking me, building up excitement inside me, each stroke adding just a tiny bit of energy to the fire that was starting to burn within me.

I was so totally and helplessly lost. There was nothing I could do but move with him, rocking helplessly in place. I could hear myself moaning softly, my mind blank, as he worked on me.

I have no idea how long he went for. All I knew was that I was being blissfully fulfilled and I didn't have to worry about a thing.

It came as quite a shock when I climaxed. It just seemed to come out of nowhere, rolling over me and just wiping me out. I felt David withdrawing but there was nothing I could do. I was done and spent and totally unable to move.

I snapped out of that stupor when David waved a cup of coffee under my nose. I grabbed it and slurped it up, waking up to a new day. With my waking up came memory. I was shocked. How could David do that to me? Excuse me, whispered a little voice. Why didn't you stop him? The answer to that was simple. Damned if I know.

Now that I was awake and focused again I turned my eyes upon David. I didn't know what I was going to say but I was going to say something. I couldn't permit that sort of behaviour.

"Enjoy your coffee, love," he said. "I have to go and get changed. Got a job on this morning."

With that he turned and left, leaving me with mouth open and no-one to speak to.

I settled to contemplating life. The wedding and the reception were successful. The wedding night not quite as successful but bound to improve. The morning after? Interesting, to say the least, and I suspect the least said the better.