Recreating Our Wedding Night

Alia and I have been married for six years and have a wonderful sex life. But we hadn’t connected in the last few days because we were so busy with wedding preparations for Alia’s brother, Arjun. The marriage would happen Monday, so the family all traveled together and checked into rooms on Friday. We spent the next two days finalizing the arrangements at the hotel reception hall we’d rented.

Finally, the day of Arjun’s wedding arrived.  While Alia got ready in our room, I waited in the downstairs lobby, constantly looking over to the stairs to check for her. I got a shock when I saw Alia step down, wearing an olive green, floral-embroidered net saree. She looked so sexy in traditional costume, more gorgeous than ever. She took the last step, came close, and whispered, “Am I looking ‘hot?'” I could only nod my head as I took her arm and escorted her to the event hall.

The bride and the groom looked lovely. Recognizing their chemistry, Alia and I remembered our own wedding night and got a bit emotional. So after the wedding reception, we went straight to our room, sat on the bed, and started kissing.

Alia must have felt much hornier than usual. “Would you like to spice it up?” she suggested.

I looked down at her through the corner of my narrowed eyes. “How?”

“Why don’t we do some roleplay?”

A little thrill shot downward through my body, but I only asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s pretend that we just got married today, and it’s our wedding night.”

“How should I start?” I asked, but she just said, “Do whatever you want.”

“Okay, then,” I shrugged, and the game was afoot!

First, I unclasped the pin that attached her saree at the shoulder and slowly removed the silk. She accepted my activity with a smile but shyly covered her breasts—I lovingly call them mangoes—with her palms.

I moved both of her hands, pushed her onto the bed, and began to unfasten the thin blouse beneath. I struggled with some of the hooks, but I persevered until she finally took pity on me and came to my aid. Taking care of the stubborn fasteners, she dropped her blouse, then I removed her brassiere and released both of her mangoes.

Now topless, Alia smiled at me, expecting further action, but I just stared at her as if dumbfounded. Suddenly, she rose from the bed and pulled off my T-shirt and shorts, the fingers of both her hands flitting lightly along my rod before she took it in her mouth. She began to suck, not a faithful recreation of that first time, but certainly a fun addition!

I reached down to loosen the cords of her lehenga. She resisted my activity, pushing my hands away, but I grabbed both of her hands and lifted them above her head. Extricating myself from her mouth, I raised her and took down her skirt and panty. The sight of her bare body excited me beyond measure, my eyes brightening with delight as if ages had passed since they’d last searched out the hidden treasure of her nooks and crannies. Like a child on his first visit to the village candy shop, I perused the mature curve of her hip, the swell of her breast—every part of her struck me as sublime, heavenly.

I thanked God at this juncture for giving me such a beautiful wife as my life partner. Then I started my sexual play by squashing her breasts with both of my hands and began to bite her nipples and suckle at her breasts. I kissed her all over, pausing to lightly lick a circle around her belly button before continuing downward. There, my tongue delved deeply into her vagina, and I sucked at it, seeking maximum access to her uniquely feminine flavor. Finally, I slid my index finger inside and rotated it, spreading her liquid excitement around her opening.

Then I was on top of her. Alia grasped my cock, trying to pull me into her. Though near wild with wanting, I still delayed our gratification by acting as if I wasn’t quite sure how to find her warm wetness. I spread her thighs wide and fumbled with both hands, even grabbing my cell phone and turning on the torch app to see better—to her feigned embarrassment. When I finally plunged into her, I ploughed her frantically, as if I had lost all control.

When I eventually had to stop for a breather, Alia whimpered and moaned, begging me to continue. Only when I felt her walls repeatedly clasping at my cock and knew she had reached her peak did I let go, exploding with pulse after white-hot pulse of my love for her. Then, gasping and laughing giddily, I collapsed atop her and felt her arms wrap around me and her fingers languorously stroking my sweat-soaked shoulderblades.

I remember my first sexual experience with joy, but replaying it years later with greater control has its own charm.