Wedding Night Remembered

When I looked forward to marrying my husband, I dreamed of our wedding night. Though the ceremony and the reception drew me too, I desired an interlude of intimacy to conclude that first day together.

The man I wed was not the first man I would have chosen for a husband.  We actually knew each other for quite some time.  And my impression of him initially was that he was somewhat reclusive and an introvert.  But later I found out how wrong I was because it turned out he was just shy, like me, and was afraid I wouldn’t like him.

He disappeared off the face of the earth for a while, and I never really thought about him until, while out walking one day, I encountered him. But he wasn’t the same as I remembered.  Now he was outgoing, had matured nicely, and had a great sense-of-humor. We just got on.

Once I found out just how much this man loved me and how long that love had gone wanting, it touched my heart.  Not only was I flattered, but I was also in love.  When he finally asked me to marry him, I said yes without a moment’s hesitation.  So, when I thought about our first evening together as husband and wife, I wanted to make it special.

I remember the evening well.

We had had some friends over to our apartment following our wedding reception, and with the hour growing late, they had begun to go their separate ways for the evening.  When at last we were alone, we both breathed a sigh of relief. Although wonderful, the day was, but for a very intimate interlude to come, finally over.

In the blissful silence that followed, my husband and I embraced in the middle of the floor.  His body was warm, and his heat exuded through his clothes.  It comforted me just to stand there and be held, although I knew that he and I both were anxious for the moments to come. Our next embrace would be more thrilling and even warmer.

So while he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, I excused myself to the bedroom to prepare our private lair for moments of loving and intimacy.  In the days before the wedding, I had made all the preparations for our wedding night. I covered our bed in sheets, pillows, and a comforter all of satin, set out candles, and selected that very special something to wear for our first night together in bed.

I could see the pleasure on his face when he entered our bedroom. He took in the flickering golden glow of the burning candles, a large, warm bed prepared to receive us, and his bride nervously awaiting, bedecked in only a sheer white baby doll and g-string panties.

I remember how good he looked when he threw off his satin robe and approached me, wearing only the silky underwear that I had said I really wanted to see him in.  He was already aroused.  I could easily see the changing contours of his growing erection protruding against his boxers.  When we embraced this time, we both felt a sudden sense of urgency as though we had breached some imaginary threshold.

I shuddered the first time I felt his hands running down my back and coming to rest on my naked bottom.  No man had ever touched me there before, and the feeling of his heated fingertips pulsing against my skin sent shivers racing up my spine.  Reacting almost instinctively, I placed my hand on the burgeoning bulge in his shorts.  His penis was beautifully big and hard and hot to the touch.  What I could once see, I could now feel as I rubbed him through his shorts.

He said something along the lines of not to make him come yet, and then stepped out from our embrace and lowered his boxers so that they fell to his feet on the floor.  And he stood completely naked before me, his young, well toned, nicely tanned body wonderfully on display for my eyes only.

We gravitated towards the bed and in a moment were lying side by side, touching, kissing, and using our hands to explore each other’s bodies.  Then he nuzzled me, kissed me all over, front and back: breasts, belly, inner thighs, even on top of the panel that concealed my dampening vagina.  He even kissed me on the smooth skin of my buttocks. My new husband told me how beautiful I was, and how he couldn’t wait to be inside of me.

I couldn’t wait for him to be inside of me either.  I took off my panties in front of him so he could look upon the place where he would enter me, where his penis would be nestled in my tight, virgin wetness.  At first, he hesitated. But then his fingers came to rest upon me, opened me, and sank into my wetness.  I would not describe what I felt as a chill, or thrill, or what-have-you. But pulses of pleasure passed through me when he opened and played inside my womanhood.

As for me, I couldn’t keep my hands off his tool. Whenever I could reach it, I would stroke its magnificent girth. He had said something about not wanting to come – not then anyway. But that seemed so contrary to what was happening.  I wanted to make him come.

Then came the moment when he moved between my legs, and I knew he wanted to enter me. It was at that point I became somewhat afraid.  Being a virgin, I had never had a man inside of me. Thankfully, I had read and heard that the first time could hurt. It seemed better for me to take control.

To that end, I had him lay down on his back. Then I spread some lubricant all up and down his pulsating shaft, listening to him moan as I smeared the slippery substance all over him. I raised myself up and over him, and started to guide him into my vagina.

His penis was hot. I started to lower myself, feeling its warmth emanate through the engorged knob slipping between my lips.  And then I lowered myself further down and experienced the momentary pain of his penetration.  Once I had him fully inside of me, I stopped. I waited until all the sensations subsided so I could focus on one: my husband now deep inside of me.

I rode my husband’s penis until he came inside of me. He grasped my waist and tried to push himself deeper then came in hot liquid spasms inside my vagina. When I had drained him, he fell back. And I, also exhausted, laid down on top of him. In due time, we drifted off into a deep, wonderful sleep.

I remember my wedding night vividly.  It wasn’t bucking broncos and guttural screaming and moaning, and dirty talk.  We were two people joined together.  Make no mind about it; having my husband’s penis in my vagina was a sweet sensation and one that cannot be paralleled by anything.  And sure, there was some pain, but it was only a moment.  What I loved about it then, and still do, is that’s it a hundred different things all at once. Sex embodies the physical, spiritual, sensual, romantic, passionate, loving and orgasmic.  And always new.

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