Read Me A Story (L)

My husband discovered your website a few months ago and read some of the stories to me. They were sweet and very sexy, but I admit they got him a bit more excited than they did me. We have been married for 25 years. Seeing how much he loved reading them to me gave me some new insights into what turns him on.

I’ve always made an effort to pay careful attention to my husband’s sexual desires. Despite what our overly-sexualized society might imply, you don’t have to dress up in a garter belt and fishnets every night in the bedroom. The key to keeping your sex life interesting is communication. It’s about telling your partner what you want, what you are thinking, and what makes you feel desired. And then listening in turn.

So a few days later, I Googled MarriageHeat and read a few more stories from your wonderful contributors. They gave me an idea for a little surprise for Tom. I would write an anonymous story about our wedding night and post it for Tom to read. I would include some details that he could recognize as coming from me.

So here goes.

August 7, 1992. I am 32. I am very nervous. Today I am getting married to a wonderful man, four years younger than I am.

He is smart, sexy, handsome, funny, playful and independent. He says he loves me. I want to believe him. But the truth is, I’m not certain he wants to get married. He doesn’t know (yet) that marriage can be difficult, and that I can be difficult. I know all this. But for him, everything seems so easy.

“Why all the fuss? Relax. This will all take care of itself.”

No, Tommy, it won’t. Weddings don’t just happen.

“See you at 6 at the church, babe. Or is it 7? They can’t start without us, right?”

Aaaaaaagh!

It is 5 o’clock. I’m fully dressed. My hair is perfect. My makeup is perfect. My dress looks wonderful, as long as I don’t sit down or breathe. My Maid of Honor says I look beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

If I could just make eye contact with Tommy. We have stared deeply into each other’s souls during the year we have been dating. I know this man. I love him. He’ll be there.

My bridesmaids are fluttering around me. I love them all, but they are making me more nervous.

Some background. My parents were divorced when I was 15. They are both here. Dad is here with his second wife. I don’t like her. Mom is with her new boyfriend. I don’t like him either.

My mother. Ugh. “Anne, darling. Tommy is adorable, but face facts. He is far too young for you. What happens when he is 46 and you are 50? How do you prefer your “other women?” Brunette or blonde? He won’t be able to resist them. You know what will happen. It happened to me.”

My mother didn’t actually say that. My fear just said that. FEAR. Please go away.

What am I thinking? 50? I’m not sure I’m going to make it through today, much less the next 20 years.

Get it together, Annie.

Then I hear a voice. At first, I think it is my father. What is he doing in here? But it is the voice in my head. It speaks again. One word: “Pray.”

Why didn’t I think of that? Close your eyes. Put the hairbrush down. Take a deep breath. Let it out. Time to pray.

“Dear God. Was that you just now? HELP!!!!”

No. Quiet down. “Dear kind and understanding Jesus: Why am I so scared? I’m scared this is the wrong thing to do. I’m scared that I pushed Tom into this out of desperation that I was going to spend the rest of my life alone. I’m scared that I’m going to get hurt again. I’m scared that Tom doesn’t really know how to love me.

“I have 200 people waiting for a wedding to happen, and all I really want to do is run out of here. I want to find Tommy and go for a walk in the woods. All I want is to hold his hand and feel his arms around me. I want all this to be over with, and I want it to be ten years from now. I want a little boy for Tom to kick a soccer ball with and a little girl who loves horses. I want to be making cupcakes in a kitchen that we have built together. I want to hit the fast-forward button. Tell me what to do.”

Silence.

5:30. The organ has started. People are being seated. Where is Tommy? Has he changed his mind?

The wedding planner bursts through the door of the small parlor in the church where I am waiting with my bridesmaids. “They’re here!” she says. “Places, everyone!”

My heart leaps. I grab her by the arm.

“Go get Tommy. Go get him right this instant. I don’t care if it’s bad luck. I have to talk to him. Right now. I’m not kidding. I’m not coming out of this room until I see him.”

I’m sure she has had nervous brides before. I give her my best “she’s serious and a little bit crazy” look.

“Do you want a Xanax, dear? I have one in my ‘bride is freaking out’ kit.”

“No. I want Tom.”

She stares at me.

“GO!” I scream. “All of you.” They look at me like I’m dangerous. But they go.

Two minutes later, there is a soft knock on the door. “If you aren’t Tom, go away.”

Tom’s voice—that beautiful voice—answers, and it takes my breath away. “Annie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I rush to the door, throw it open, grab an astonished Tom by the necktie, yank him inside, and slam it closed. I grab him by his shoulders and push him up against the parlor wall. The pictures shake.

“Whoa, girl. Say, isn’t there some law against seeing you right now?”

“Don’t talk. Look me in the eyes.” I’m about to cry. I can’t cry. It will ruin an hour’s worth of makeup.

He takes me seriously. He is the first person all day who hasn’t treated me like a spoiled child.

“Tommy, are you sure? Do you WANT to marry me? Look, it’s not too late. I know I pressured you into this. I’m so sorry. Let’s run out the back door. Or you can if you want. I won’t blame you.”

“Annie,” he smiles. “I love you. Let’s get married. Right now.” His nose is inches from mine. I can see my eyes in his. I want this man. He wants me.

“Whew.” I drop my head onto his chest.

“Whew?” Tom laughs. I melt into his arms. We laugh. We share a long, wet, passionate kiss.

Me: “Okay. Go. Go go go go.”

8:00 pm. The ceremony is a blur of smiles and tears. Everyone is happy. All I can remember is Tommy’s face, his eyes, his hands, our kiss.

The reception is SO MUCH FUN. Everyone I love is here. I’m dancing with my shoes off. My parents aren’t fighting! Thank you, God!

9:00 pm. The wedding planner hugs my neck and shouts into my ear over the sound of the band. “Annie. You and Tom have to go. Everyone is waiting. Throw the bouquet. Run to the limo. The party is almost over. Go start being Mrs. Tom Andrews.”

9:15. We are in the back seat of a black stretch limousine. My brother is driving. “Where to, M’lady?” Tom has booked a suite for our wedding night at an elegant downtown hotel. My bag is packed for a week in Paris. The plane leaves at 4 pm tomorrow.

“Where is the after-party?” I ask. Bill gives Tom a look. “You’re joking,” he says. Tommy shrugs.

I turn to Tom. “Tommy. I love you! I want to spend tonight in our bed. But not yet. Our best friends are here. We may never see them all together ever again. I don’t want to go home. Not yet.

“No problem, Cinderella. Driver, to the after-party!”

2:30 am. We stagger into the hotel. The tired night clerk looks at us like he has seen this all before. He checks us in. Tommy picks me up and carries me to the elevator.

8:00 am. I wake up. My contact lenses are stuck to the back of my eyelids. I’m still wearing my wedding dress. Tommy is asleep on his back, lying next to me. He is still wearing his tux pants and formal shirt. At least we took off our shoes. We fell asleep! Some wedding night.

I stumble to the bathroom. I look like a Halloween bridezilla. I strip off my clothes and step into the huge double shower and let the warm water cascade over me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything this nice in my life.

Suddenly, I feel a draft. The shower door opens. My husband—MY HUSBAND—steps into the shower and takes me into his strong arms. The water pours over us. My breasts press against his chest. I wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses me. A long, slow kiss.

His cock is very hard. He pushes me against the tile wall. He breaks off the kiss and looks into my raccoon eyes. “Yes?” he asks.

“Oh yes,” I reply. I feel his cock enter me. I gasp.

8:30 am. Tommy is lying naked on the enormous king-sized bed. I am on top of him. My hair is wet. My pussy is wet. His cock is buried deep inside me. I pull my knees up and squat on his cock, riding him.

“Tommy, look. Look at us, baby. I’m fucking you. I’m going to fuck you for the rest of our lives. Do you like that, Tommy?” I begin to cum. “Cum, baby. Cum with me.”

He groans. He comes. I come. So that’s what it’s like. To really make love. Amazing.

10 pm. September 8th, 2018. Click Submit. I hope you like your story, Tommy. I love you today so much deeper than I did 26 years and one month ago. God has blessed us with two children, a home, health, and love. Yes, we have had our ups and downs. We have hurt each other. We have forgiven each other. We are still together. We are still in love.

I think God answered that prayer.

I’m not sleepy yet. Please read me a bedtime story.

Love, Annie