New Wife, New Life ~ Ignite Giveaway 2020 Winner

Finally Married

With a smile of contentment on my face, I reminisced over how my life had changed. Less than a year ago, a man came into my life who melted the ice in my heart. Six months later, he became my husband. My wedding day was our first kiss.

Several women in the receiving line at our reception remarked how beautiful I looked. So radiant. Happy. I felt no obligation to tell them that perhaps it was because I had given my virginity to my husband twenty minutes earlier. I made an exception for one, a co-worker who had ridiculed me for waiting until I was married. When she started teasing and saying how radiant I looked, I responded with, “Most likely it has something to do with having just climbed off my husband’s cock a few minutes ago.” She dropped her drink.

Today, our six-month anniversary, my husband was sleeping beside me, his arm draped over my belly and his fingers still in my pussy. I pulled a hand across my breast to wipe off the remaining cum that was drying there. I particularly loved it when he entered me in the missionary position. In addition to hearing his moans change to grunts, I could watch his face. I knew he was close, when his grunting paused, he held his breath, and his eyes glazed over. His attention to me before entering had already brought me close, and as I watched his face reflect the pleasure he was receiving from me, we often came together.

I joined my husband in dreamland.

The Dream

The king had chosen her as replacement for his banished queen. Now she sat in her bedroom, submitting to preparation for her wedding night. Her hair, carefully braided in two pigtails, reached her waist, and artfully applied make-up heightened the sparkle in her eyes. A sheer gown barely covered her breasts. After precisely placing a veil on her head, the manservant stepped back and congratulated himself on the completion of his fine work.

A simple black skirt hid her waist and legs. “Are you finished? Won’t my husband want my legs shaved? Besides, this skirt is hardly more than a rag!”

A cloud entered the room and settled upon the servant. “My lady, he will not be interested in your legs or anything… down there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“As a boy, during a time of tribal warfare, he sustained injuries that weakened the muscles in his pelvis. He is ashamed of the scars that cover much of his upper thighs and backside. There was additional trauma; he saw his father killed. He saw unspeakable things done to his mother before they killed her as well. As a result, he believes he is not able to, how shall I put it? Like the former queen, technically, you will remain a virgin. As you will soon discover, there is nothing wrong with his sex organs. When he has finished, I will return to bathe you and wash your hair.” Seeing the questioning look on her face, he continued. “Yes, I’ll be waiting just outside the door.” Another pause. “Any questions?”

“How is it the king trusts you to be alone with me? Or trusts me, for that matter?”

“I was injured at the same time as your husband. My injuries were different and more severe. The king has nothing to fear from me. I am dead down there.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’m sure I have a lot to learn about the royal court.”

“I suppose so. You are ready. I will leave, and in a few moments, the king will knock once to announce his arrival and enter. He will hand you a blindfold, which you are to wear until he removes it. As I said earlier, he is ashamed of how he looks. His shame has also blinded him to many things; the former queen confided to me that he was indifferent to the needs of his wife.” The manservant gently closed the door behind him.

The Knock

The king’s bedchamber and her private bedroom shared a common wall and door through which the servant had exited. The king knocked quietly before entering the modest room. A small stove stood against the wall to the right of the door. Her bed snuggled up to the wall on the left, and a small table fought for space between them. A slight warm breeze wafted through the lone window. A second door on the opposite wall led to a courtyard.

The king wasted no time in conversation. His eager touch told her that he enjoyed her breasts, and she didn’t resist let him. He felt her up while leading her to a chair next to the table. She turned her head upward to receive a kiss, and his tongue explored hers while his hands grabbed her ass to pull her into him. The king’s erection, obviously impatient, pushed into her.

She sat as he continued to fondle her. Parting her legs, he stood between them and began to grind on her bosom while tying a blindfold over her eyes. Then a simple, yet urgent, command shattered the silence. “Take it out.”

“As you wish.” She made her first, awkward attempt at blindly exposing his penis, never having touched one before. In time, it became automatic: place a hand on his hip to get her bearings, slide around to the front to find the opening, and pull out the erection.

Taking a step away from her, her new husband removed her thin gown and tossed it onto the table. He rubbed her nipples with his cock and, once they hardened, rolled them between his thumb and forefinger. Then he nestled his manhood in her cleavage and slowly stroked while cupping her breasts. Several times, he knelt to drag his tongue languidly across the nipples and pull on them with a long suck.

Deprived of sight by the blindfold, her mind focused on other senses, primarily that of touch. Having never seen one, she tried to imagine the king’s erection lying there between her breasts, feeling it pulse and her own arousal as it rubbed her nipples. She felt the heat of his hands groping at them. She had never imagined that a man would find that pleasurable.

Standing up again, he reached for one of her pigtails. Her sense of touch informed her he was doing something with her hair, but she could not imagine what. She couldn’t see him pulling his foreskin back as far as possible and wrapping several turns of the hair around the base of his cock. Snugging the braid tight, he had made a cock ring.

Touch was not the only sense engaged. Her hearing told her his breathing had quickened. She felt his cock sliding in her cleavage, a soft, short moaning accompanying each thrust. She felt his hands groping at her breasts again and something new, a wet touch on her nipples. The same sensation came to her lips. It was slippery. Then his penis—she supposed it was his penis—pushed itself into her mouth. A new moaning sound reached her ears, longer, more intense.

Strange reactions spontaneously arose within her. Her breathing changed. Almost automatically, she spread her legs further and brought her hand between her legs to stroke herself. She heard the king’s small gasp and her own moaning.

He was playing with her hair again, feverishly brushing the tip of her second pigtail over the most sensitive areas of his erection. She sensed his body stiffen, and it frightened her. He sucked in a gulp of air, but she didn’t hear its release. Without realizing when or why it happened, she found herself playing with his balls. The sack tightened in her palm.

Lacking vision, she had used her other senses to experience each subtle clue—the sounds, the touches, even tastes—that helped her to know what he was experiencing. Knowing just when he would cum gave her a sense of accomplishment.

A cry. A moan. A scream. Which was it? Pleasure or pain? Whatever it was, it escaped from the king without warning. Something hot and wet landed on her chest and splattered across her face. He massaged her breasts with the unknown substance and quietly cleaned it off her face. Neither of them spoke a word as he cupped her breasts again. She waited until he removed the blindfold and watched him retreat through the door between their bedrooms.

Something Different

Six months passed. The knock on the door came several times a week, and she began to look forward to his visits. While he clearly found satisfaction each time, to her embarrassment, she realized she enjoyed it as well—enjoyed being the source of his pleasure. Last night, the manservant had stopped by again. There would be another knock.

This time when she opened the door, she knew something was different.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tell me about your god.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Tell me about your god. You seem so at peace with yourself and with the world around you, though snatched from your family and home and bound in a likely-unwanted marriage to someone not of your culture or religion. I, on the other hand, am not at peace, not happy. Don’t misunderstand; you satisfy me sexually, but still, I feel empty when I leave and return to my bedroom. I dreamed last night that I should ask you about your god.”

She told the king how God had created them, but man had gone his own way. She said that God provided a remedy to restore the relationship between Himself and mankind. He asked questions for several hours, and she answered them all.

There was no erection that night needing her attention, yet the king had never felt so satisfied in his entire life. And when he kissed his queen that night, she responded in such a way that made him think this was neither foreplay nor saying goodnight. It was love. She loved him. The next morning, he realized he had never slept so peacefully.

She slept serenely as well and woke determined that the king’s next visit would be different.

A Particular Gift

That night, when he entered the room, she held up a hand to indicate it was not time for him to grope her. “First, I’m putting the blindfold on you. Then the blouse comes off.” Hearing her own voice say this sent a shiver through her. She relished the questioning look in his eyes. “We’ve been married for six months, but you have yet to receive one particular gift from me. Tonight I am giving you my virginity.” She felt growing heat and wetness between her legs.

Kneeling, with his back to her, he handed her the blindfold and waited for her to tie it. When she wordlessly indicated he was to stand and pulled his hands to her breasts, he removed her top. After a few moments, she pulled his hand away to place it on the button of her skirt. The momentary fumbling indicated he understood he was to unfasten it. The garment fell to the floor, and she stood before him—naked. She positioned herself and silently communicated to him that he was to feel up more than her bosom. She groped him as well and freed his cock from his trousers.

Dropping to her knees, she worked on him with everything she had: her lips, her tongue, the tips of her fingers. She used the tip of his cock to circle her nipples then nestled it in the cleavage between her breasts.

His groans were getting deeper. Longer. He sucked in a deep breath.

She stopped, but he did not stiffen. She heard the release of air as his lungs slowly deflated.

Rising, she led him to the chair and undressed him. Once seated, she moved in closer to shove a nipple in his mouth. She looked down and saw that his erection had not faded. Placing it in her hands, she closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, his moaning. A thumb on the head of his penis searched for his precum as she took him to the edge again.

Despite the masterful attention that she was giving his cock, his brain woke up enough to tell his own hands to go to work. They were all over her now, caressing her waist, rubbing the thighs, squeezing her backside, and massaging her legs. Her groans became more intense, especially when he approached her mound.

“Not yet,” she groaned. Standing between the king’s spread legs and placing her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, she lifted a leg and set her foot on his knee. Then she reached for his hand and pulled it to herself.

Another simple command. “Now.”

This woman, this queen, his wife, had freely given herself to him. It was time for him to respond with the same generosity. She had washed the years of shame from his soul, accepting him for who he was. He regretted having taken so long to learn how to give. Perhaps tonight, she would grant his one remaining dream: to hear the scream of a woman who was experiencing the same pleasure she gave to him.

With a desire that bordered on frenzy, he slid his hands down her waist, across her hips, and along her legs. When he raised his hand again, she closed her own over it and brought it to her pussy. His fingers explored her cunt and clit while her hands glided over her thighs and abdomen, pausing on her breasts before retracing the path down her body. Their journey repeated several times, and she moaned her pleasure when his free hand also roamed over her.

The leg on which she balanced began to shake, so she grabbed the rope hanging from the ceiling to steady herself. Then, shifting her weight to stand on both legs, she leaned down to fondle her husband. His moaning intensified. Ripping the blindfold off, she threw it to the floor. She waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, wanting him to delight in all of her, not only her breasts. Writhing in front of him, she fingered herself for his pleasure. Then she loosened her hair, symbolically covering their nakedness from the world. Throwing her arms around him, she pulled his head down to a nipple and lowered her pussy on his pole.

He met her with a thrust of his own. She heard him gulp the air, felt his body stiffen.

One word only, spoken only once. It drew out into a scream while her body writhed and shook. He filled her cunt, and the wine of their love dripped to the floor. She sought his mouth, the scream muffled to a moan by their passionate kiss.

A gardener was tending to the flowers below the window. When he heard the scream of joy, a knowing smile crossed his face. He soon would be returning home to his waiting “queen.” He was surprised, though, when he heard someone singing the doxology.

Waking Up

“That must have been some dream you were having.” My husband was very much awake now. He was straddling me, rubbing a lively erection across my boobs.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were mumbling a word repeatedly. I’ve never heard you use that word. Seeing you’re awake, that’s exactly what I have in mind.”