At the beginning of our year-long courtship, Rose and I mutually agreed to wait until we married to have intercourse. Its not that we were especially religious, its just the way we were brought up. We gradually uncovered the secrets of each others’ bodies in passionate semi-clothes petting sessions in my parents basement. Early in the relationship we discovered that she could reach orgasm from being dry-humped (with underwear still on) but this did not usually provide the needed stimulation for me. It was not until several weeks later, as we rested after one of these sessions that Rose got up suddenly and retreived a handerchief from her purse.
“What’s that for”, I asked.
Kissing me lightly she whispered in my ear, “I’m going to give you a hand job.”
And she did. Reaching into my already unbuttoned jeans, wrapping her fingers around my erect penis, she stroked me lovingly until I ejaculated. I found out later that her more-experienced best friend had given her instructions on what to do. This was the pattern of our sex life until the wedding night.
And now it was here.
We chose to spend our first night at our apartment rather than a hotel. I carried her over the threshold like a good husband and she went immediately to the bathroom to make herself ready. I turned on a small lamp next to the bed, pulled back the covers, and then undressed. I put on a robe I had purchased for the occasion but had a hard time keeping it shut as I was in a state of anticipatory erection.
Then the bathroom light went off, the door opened, and there she was. I had never seen such a beautiful sight. She wore an old-fashioned, white floor-length nightgown, very chaste except that it as almost transparent. Her dark hair cascaded over her white shoulders and her nipples (which by then had become well-known to me) and her dark pubic hair (which had not) were clearly visible underneath.
As I arose and went to her, my robe fell open and my arousal was visibly evident. Taking her in my arms I kissed her softly. I could sense her nervousness. I tried to go slow but my hands would not obey. As I began to lift her gown she uttered a faint “Wait,…”, but we both knew I could not.
She obediantly lifted her arms as I removed her gown. It had served its brief purpose. She slipped the robe from my shoulders and there we were – lovers, newlyweds, completely naked for the first time together. I could sense her shyness. Her hands moved to cover herself but I took them into my own to prevent that.
Leading her to the bed, she laid down and I join her. Things were about to happen very quickly now. As I touched her vagina I could feel the lubricant she had applied to facilitate my entry. She spread her legs and I moved over her. Taking my penis in her hand, she guided me to her opening. I inserted myself into her body as slowly as possible, hoping to minimize the pain of her deflowering. I felt her stiffen and, although there I could feel no apparent obstacle, I knew that her hymen had broken.
We lay still for a few moments. Lifting myself up to look into her eyes I whispered, “I’m finally making love to you”, and then my release came. I held her so tight I thought she might break as spurt after spurt of semen shot into her womb.
Our marriage was now consummated.
I rolled off her and got her a towel. She wiped away just a little blood along with the wetness of our lovemaking.
Within minutes we were at it again. And again. Three times that night and again the next morning. We could not get enough of each other.
27 years later, we still can’t get enough of each other.
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John and Rose
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