First Night

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Amateur

I wake up in the dark.

I feel warm, safe, and a little sore. Memory filters in as I lay there in warmth, and my cheek is pressed against a warm thigh, and I smile and turn my face slightly to kiss the skin, with its dark hairs. I got married yesterday. I will share my life now with this man who found me, who understands me, who loves me. He smells of sweat and sex, and how I ended up head to toe with him I’m not sure; I had curled up with my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat and the breath sigh in and out of his chest. My eyes are adjusting now, and in the dim light through the vertical blinds on the hotel windows, cast by streetlights — it isn’t even morning yet, but I guess a city is never fully dark — I can see his cock, lying soft and quiescent there, inches from my face.

I was a virgin until last night. Or, maybe just earlier this night, I don’t know what time it is. In this day and age, I suppose that’s strange, but it seemed important to me. My friends all called me old-fashioned, but I didn’t take it as they meant it. Personally, I didn’t see what was so wonderful about being modern; all it seemed to me was more work and a haphazard grab for whatever caught your eye that day. Me, I had goals. I had ambitions. So they didn’t synch with what today told us we wanted. I didn’t care. I’d never been good at listening to what other people told me I should be. I was what I wanted.

And Michael had understood. I knew he’d wanted more. I knew he ached for it, and I have to be honest: it made me smile a little, knowing he held himself back. Respect is a powerful thing. He knew what I wanted too, and he wanted to give it to me. I wasn’t completely merciless; we’d dated for months, and I’d relieved him in other ways. It wasn’t entirely easy for me, either; Michael wasn’t the only one that went home, aching and frustrated, and a few times, I thought about just giving up, giving in. But Michael had reminded me, had held himself back. Respect. Honor. Strength of character. I think I was sure that moment, that first time, when he pushed me back, reminded me I wanted to wait, when at that moment all I wanted was him, all of him, as much of him as I could get. I wasn’t happy. But he was right, and he forgave me the things I said to him that night when I told him so afterwards. I can be kind of vicious when my blood is up.

It had been worth it, though. Michael had been kind, tender, and the buildup….Well, I think I woke up the day of our wedding horny, and was glad I’d chosen a long, full skirted dress, because I wasn’t about to wear panties on my wedding day and by the time we stood at the altar I think I felt myself slick to my calves. When he kissed me, the feelings were so intense, my love for him and my joy at finally, finally fulfilling this dream of mine, that I think I came on the spot. I don’t remember, everything dissolved under his lips, but I do remember the minister looking at me oddly and my knees being very wobbly.

The rest of the ceremony had been torture. The reception was interminable; Michael was my rock again, murmuring to me about patience and kissing me dizzy whenever my own began to give out. The pleasant fog his lips imparted on me would get me through another half hour or so. Later, my mother asked me if I had medicated myself for the occasion; when I told her the truth, she hadn’t stopped laughing for a full five minutes.

And then, the hotel room. Michael had stripped me slowly, and discovered I had shaved for him, that I wasn’t wearing panties, and that I’d been soaking wet for most of the day. He peeled me out of the overwrought wedding dress, made me wait bahis firmaları while he took off his own clothes, and then kissed me, and I finally felt it, skin against skin, flesh and heat and him, and I was lost. I became a panting animal, nothing but want and need and lust, but Michael was steady and strong as ever. When he kissed my throat, I groaned. When he kissed my breasts, I clutched his hair and gasped, his beard tickling my soft skin. His hands cupped over them, nipples hard and sensitive against his rough palms, and my back arched into his touch as I made little keening noises, desperate. His tongue was hot and wet and traced lines of fire in my flesh, downward over my belly, the muscles there twitching as he kisses my navel, my mound, lower….

At the first touch of his lips on my pussy, I scream. I pull his face between my legs, unashamed, hooking my knees over his shoulders and spreading my thighs wide for him, feeling his beard scratch at my skin, his tongue and breath at the heart of me, and I don’t know how it can still feel so warm when I am burning up. He teases me, long licks, tasting of me, drinking of me, and it doesn’t take long. What I felt at the altar? That wasn’t a climax.

THIS was a CLIMAX.

I feel like I’m being squeezed, every muscle tensing, and what comes out is not a scream but a grunt, followed by a shuddering groan as I clutch Michael to my spasming sex. God, how I’ve wanted this. But I want more. I pull his hair, desperate to pull him up to me, over me, into me. He comes up willingly enough, his face and short beard shiny and wet, and I don’t kiss him, but lick at his face and beard, tasting myself on him, driven out of my mind with lust and sharing my essence with him. I don’t taste bad, really. The smell is intoxicating. My legs come up and wrap around his hips, trying to pull him down.

“Now?” he asks, and I nod, not quite able to speak yet.

He enters me.

Three words that change a world. It doesn’t do it justice. The sensation… I feel the head of his erection, thick and hot and hard, probe momentarily, then slide in. There is resistance; I feel it inside too. He kisses me, holding himself there. “Hold on,” he whispers, but I’m already clinging to him for dear life. I know what’s coming.

And the truth is, it isn’t that bad.

A pinch; a bit like when I got my ear pierced, only deeper, and then he is in me, stretching me, and I catch my breath before letting out a deep, sighing moan. There is discomfort, but this was what I wanted, and finally having it after wanting it for months, after this day of lust-hazed anticipation, beat any other sensation out of the water. Michael is sweet; he waits until I relax under him, accustoming myself to the new feeling of something inside me, and I have to admit — once the initial shock passes, it feels pretty damn good in there. Part of me laments loudly that I’d been depriving myself of this for years, but I shove that aside pretty quickly. I have it now. That’s what matters.

When I kiss his throat, he begins to move, and the feeling is so intense I almost faint. I do moan, and grip him harder. The discomfort is gone, and what remains is ecstasy, sensation so strong and fine that I feel like my head might explode. I feel like I might come apart, and I cling to Michael, whimpering, not in pain, but in sheer overwhelmed passion.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stilling, concerned, and I growl at him and bite his ear, squeezing with legs, rolling my hips. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to ever stop. He gets the message, and begins again. He goes slowly, at first, and that’s good; the feelings kaçak iddaa he is creating, his cock in my cunt — that phrase, those dirty words, swim around in my brain and only arouse me further — are incredible, indescribable, unbelievable, and I want it to go on forever, want to sink into these sensations, swim around in them, really get the lay of the land, if you get what I’m saying, but then he slowly begins to pick up speed, and it’s even better. I cling to him, wrapped around him, arms and legs, and my fingers curl and claw at his back. My hips roll into him of their own accord, and I’m gasping, moaning, screaming his name. They say the first time is never good.

Maybe I’m just lucky.

I thought I came on his mouth; this carries me to a new place, and I shake and shudder on my husband’s cock, and know that I made the right choice, both in this man and in waiting and oh God, even if it’s never this intense again (please God let it be this intense every fucking time) I will thank the heavens and their host and the one who stands above us all for the wisdom and forbearance and most of all for Michael and his beautiful, delicious, wonderful, heavenly cock.

He is panting now, as I come down, sighing with the beautiful release of it, and I kiss his ear, and murmur, “Now.”

And as if he had been waiting for that single word, he comes, thrusting hard into me, and I sigh again as I feel him fill me. I have always wanted to be a mother. To feel life growing inside me. It’s never a certain thing, but we’ll have plenty of time for lightning to strike, and I pet Michael’s hair as he collapses on me, his weight pressing me into the bedding. I am not a delicate flower and Michael is not a towering giant; I can bear his weight, for a little while, and I close my eyes, feeling him soften in me, and making a little disappointed sound when he falls out of me.

I relive that memory of the first time, staring at his cock as it lay on his thigh, as I lay on his thigh. And slowly, so as not to startle or wake him, I move slightly, and lick the little part of Michael that gave me such wonderful feelings, that even now might have fulfilled one of my favorite dreams. Sex is a messy business, but the smells and tastes don’t bother me; they are evidence of love and excitement and bring memories of ecstasy and joy. I stretch a little further, take his soft cock in my mouth, and suckle gently, and feel it twitch in my mouth. It warms and begins to fill, to grow, and the sensation is wonderful. My husband shifts in his slumber, and I move carefully, wanting to neither wake him nor loose him from my mouth. This is for me. This is my time. He will enjoy it, of course, but I’m not doing it for him.

I’ve sucked Michael’s cock before. There were a few times while we were dating I just couldn’t leave him in a state, and I’d done it because I knew even then I loved him. I knew what he liked, and I’d done some research. I like to do things right. As he hardens in my mouth, my hand travels down to my own sex, but one touch makes me wince, and I stop. I’ll need some more time. That’s okay.

We have the rest of our lives.

His cock continues to grow in my mouth, and now it’s too big for me to take it completely; I raise my hand and circle it around him, holding him steady. He fills my hand and my mouth and some besides. I couldn’t say whether he is large or small really; I don’t have a great deal of basis for comparison, but I think he is perfect for me. I suck him, and then feel his hand on my head.

“Danielle?” he asks muzzily.

I pull my mouth off his cock. “Relax, honey,” I tell him in a soothing kaçak bahis voice, one hand caressing his chest and belly, softly, soothingly. “Just enjoy.”

He sighs, and strokes my hair, and I return to sucking my husband’s cock. I have to be honest. If I weren’t so fixed on keeping my virginity till marriage, I might have been a slut. I love this. I love having his cock in my mouth, his warm rod filling my mouth with his taste, my tongue twisting along its length, swirling around the head; seeing how far I can go before I choke or gag. Maybe that was part of the decision; I loved doing these things so much that I was determined to only do them to one man, and I had to find the right one. Now I had.

And I was going to make the most of it.

My free hand, the one not holding his cock, strokes lightly over his belly and thighs, his chest, fingers curling in the dark hair that covers him. His smell surrounds me, warm and thick and masculine, making me think of dark forests and powerful beasts, stags and stallions and bulls. His taste is intoxicating, as his flesh passes between my lips, and I’m moving my head up and down, slowly, teasing him as well as myself, wanting to draw this out. He’s moaning now, and I smile around his cock, enjoying the idea that I’m doing this to him, that I’m making him feel this good. There’s a new taste in my mouth now; his cock is expressing, pre-cum — silly word for it, but I can’t think of better — flowing into my mouth, a salty taste, and I want more. I begin to stroke with my hand, moving faster now, and Michael’s moans intensify, his hand resting on my hair — not pushing though, we had THAT conversation, believe you me — as I suck harder, wanting to feel him burst in my mouth, wanting the taste, wanting my prize. Can’t get pregnant from a blowjob, but there will be other opportunities.

“Oh God, Dani, I….Oh God.”

I tap his belly with my free hand, getting his attention, and he opens his eyes, looking down at me. I close mine, letting my face fall into an expression of purest ecstasy, and as loud as I can, I make a sound around his cock in my mouth.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

“Oh fuck,” I hear him say, and his cock leaps in my mouth, his hips buck, and I am getting my prize. He fills my mouth with salt and savor, choked groans escaping his lips as he does, and I don’t stop sucking, swallowing, licking, draining him dry and taking it all. I don’t want to stop. He shivers, twitches, as I keep sucking, licking the oversensitive head, and a couple of times, he begs me to stop, but I’m not finished yet. Finally, he is as soft as he was when I began, almost crying now, and I release him, and crawl up his body, straddling him, on hands and knees over him, staring down at him.

He looks up at me, still panting a little. “You’re amazing,” he tells me, and I smile. It always feels good to hear that. I bend down and kiss his nose, then his lips. If he objects to the taste of himself when my tongue explores his mouth, he doesn’t say anything, and I wouldn’t much care of he did. I licked myself off his face earlier; what’s good for the goose….

I lay down, fit myself to him, and sigh.

“I am the happiest man alive right now,” he says, in a wondering kind of tone, as his arms come up and wrap around me. “I got to marry a goddess today.”

I giggle and wriggle a bit against him, enjoying the feeling of his warmth and strength. “You’re so sweet,” I tell him, and lick his earlobe. Then I murmur in his ear, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies. We settle in then. Tomorrow — or maybe this morning — will be our first day as a married couple. The first day, as they say, of the rest of our lives. There would be challenges ahead. There would be difficulties, and battles, and terrors. There always were.

But I knew now, that never again would I have to face them alone.

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