I’d just gotten married—for the first time in my 60 years of life—to Keesha. My new wife sat beside me in our rented limo, still in her wedding gown, its white lace a stark contrast to her ebony skin and long, black curls. Despite the happy curve to her luscious lips, I couldn’t escape the doubt that had plagued me for months: Why would Keesha marry me?
We met 12 years ago at our Baptist church, and as we spent a lot of time over the years volunteering on committees and doing charity work, we became friends. On our first real date two years ago, she told me she couldn’t understand why I’d never married. How could any woman let me go?
To me, the bigger question was why such a beautiful young woman would choose me?
It can’t be my looks. I’m not particularly handsome with my receding gray-blond hair and largish nose. She’s surely no golddigger, either; I’ve worked in retail my entire adult life and don’t have much. Maybe she feels sorry for me. I told her once that I’m still a virgin, lonely for most of my life. But does one marry out of pity?
Maybe she does really love me…
Keesha looked at me and smiled, unzipping my pants there in the back of the limousine. “Amos, are you sure no one has even given you oral?”
My heart started beating fast, and my penis grew hard. “I’m sure.” I could barely choke out the words.
She pulled out my cock, already at full size, and giggled. “That didn’t take long.”
Keesha leaned down, took just the head of my cock into her mouth. I moaned, but not too loud; I didn’t want the driver to hear. As she started sucking me, her full lips wrapping around my cock and moving up and down, I placed my hand on her head. I couldn’t believe the feeling! My heart beat faster, and I broke out in a sweat, wanting to moan louder.
Finally, the driver announced, “We’re here.”
Keesha sat up, tucked my cock back into my pants, and zipped me up before we got out. I paid the driver, and my bride and I hurried through the check-in procedure and to our hotel room. Once the door had latched behind us, we didn’t waste any time. We started kissing and touching each other while shedding our clothes.
“I didn’t know you wear thongs,” I said.
Keesha chuckled. “You still don’t know everything about me.”
Once we were naked, we got in bed, me on top of her. The gray hairs of my chest rubbed against her huge nipples. I don’t think I ever comprehended the size of her breasts until they were bare and under me. We kissed passionately, tongues connecting, then I kissed her cheek… her neck… sucked her earlobe.
Keesha grabbed my cock, put it inside her, and then wrapped her dusky, sexy legs around me. Keesha grabbed my hips and started to move me back and forth, moaning loudly to let me know this is what she wanted. I began undulating slowly as she grabbed my hands and positioned them on her legs. Then she grabbed my butt, helping me thrust.
All of a sudden, she gripped my upper arms, rolled us both over, and started riding my cock hard and fast. I couldn’t believe it. The feeling overwhelmed me—I’d never felt anything like it in my life. What had I been missing all of these years? How could she move so fast? I loved watching her huge tits bounce up and down, her face in total pleasure.
Keesha grabbed my hands again, first putting them on her breasts and squeezing them, then moving them to her wide hips to help her move up and down. But she really didn’t need the help. When I came inside of her, it was the absolute best! We both moaned so loudly that I wondered who might have heard us in the other rooms. Would they complain to the management?
She rolled off of me, and both of us lay there, panting and caressing each other. Keesha smiled. “How was your first time?”
I returned the smile. “It was fabulous!”
Maybe I’d never know what made Keesha want to be my wife. But I’d spend whatever days the good Lord saw fit to grant us together thanking Him—and making her glad—that she did!
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