Honeymoon Ride (L)

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

 

I was reminiscing about our honeymoon recently after scrolling through my phone and seeing some gallery memories pop up. It took me back to our getaway where we just had each other . . . and how much sex we had throughout. I remember it clearly . . .

 

**********

 

My husband and I had just gotten married. The wedding was everything we hoped for—joyful, beautiful, unforgettable.

That night, it was our first time together. My first time, full stop. Until then, I’d been a virgin. I grew up in a conservative family, where sex wasn’t something we talked about. I didn’t even explore my own body until I was in my twenties. So when it came time to do the deed, I was nervous—unsure of what to expect, afraid I wouldn’t know what to do.

But that night was . . . amazing. Soft, slow, tender, yet still so passionate. I knew I had a lot to learn from here on out, but I also knew we’d figure it out together.

 

{ The Morning After }

 

The morning after our wedding, we were still caught in a dreamlike haze from the night before. Of course, we made love again. We couldn’t resist.

After a continental breakfast, we hurried out to drop off my dress and his tux at our house. Neither of us wanted to lug those around while heading to the airport for our quiet honeymoon in Byron Bay. And in the middle of packing last-minute essentials . . . well, there was time for a quickie.

We landed, grabbed a rental car, and drove straight to our Airbnb. It was a renovated barn house with high ceilings, wooden beams, and large windows that let in floods of natural light—a beautiful, rustic getaway just steps from the beach. I admit, it was a little on the expensive side, but we didn’t mind spending extra for a place that felt secluded and peaceful. Judging by the sex we’d already had, I dared say we wouldn’t be leaving this place much during our six-day stay. Although were already exhausted from the night before and the morning’s shenanigans, somehow—I still can’t believe it—we managed five rounds in just 24 hours. Somehow, we found the energy with the drive to match.

 

{ The Next Morning }

 

I woke up the next morning to the sound of kookaburras laughing just outside the window. The Airbnb had a cozy loft bedroom with a queen-sized bed with a rusty orange-coloured quilt. The air was crisp—I could already feel the chill creeping in as I shifted beneath the covers. I was still naked. We’d passed out by 9 pm the night before, right after one last quickie in bed.

Peering over at my husband, I saw he was still very much asleep—quietly snoring away. I found it quite cute. His full lips were slightly parted, one arm draped over his head, which was tilted gently to the side. We’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but sometime during the night, we’d drifted apart to our own sides. I tend to move around a lot in my sleep, so I’ll blame myself for that.

I slowly slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the coat hangers at the edge of the loft. The Airbnb had provided their own fluffy charcoal robes, each embroidered with a sleek monogram. I definitely needed something warm—my nipples had puckered from the early morning chill.

Wrapping myself in the robe, I made my way down the stairs. At the bottom, two brown leather armchairs sat atop a large cowhide rug. I’d always imagined cowhide would feel softer than it looked, but this one was a bit bristly. I know because I was kneeling on it last night, giving my husband head while he watched me from above, seated in one of those very chairs.

After that brief moment of reminiscing, I slowly walked past the green couch nestled in front of a wooden buffet and the TV, which was mounted high on a massive wooden beam. I was reminded of al the sex we’d already had in this room—how he tenderly ate out my pussy with such skill and devotion, and how much I loved every second of it.

I quickly flicked on the kettle and made my way into the bathroom—I’d been holding it far too long. The space was stunning, with an open rainfall shower and a large, inviting bathtub positioned perfectly to take in the lush outdoor greenery through floor-to-ceiling windows. Thankfully, I had drawn the curtains earlier; the last thing I needed was an unintentional show to the wildlife. Still, the idea of sinking into that tub later with my husband lingered in my mind—I definitely planned on making that happen.

Once I was done, I stepped back out into the living area, only to be hit by another vivid memory from the day before. My eyes fell on the solid wooden table sitting there, still and unassuming. Yesterday, as we got back from exploring the local shops and markets, I was placing our bags on the table, but my husband had other ideas. As the memory returned, in my mind, I saw myself face down, bent over that table, with my husband gripping my hips and taking me from behind, every movement sending waves of pleasure through me. My pelvis still felt slightly sore from it, but I didn’t care; it was so good.

But back to real time, my pussy was wet again. I barely cared about the new masala chai I’d bought yesterday, though I went through the motions of pouring myself a cup. The scent was warm and spicy, but my attention had already drifted elsewhere. My fingers slipped lower, teasing my clit with slow circles.

I took a few sips, and I really enjoyed it. The warmth helped me focus, pulling me away from the flood of memories that had just surged through me. Then I heard a sound upstairs—my husband stirring, his snoring suddenly silent. I quickly made him a cup too and, with a soft smile, skipped up the stairs to find him still lying just as I’d left him.

With a slow inhale, he opened his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light. I perched on the edge of his side of the bed, a steaming mug in each hand.

“Well, good morning, beautiful,” he murmured, voice still husky with sleep. His sleepy voice is so sexy.

“This is a view I could get used to—coffee and my smokin’ hot wife.”

I laughed softly, “Sorry, but it’s not coffee. It’s that chai tea we picked up yesterday from the organic shop.”

He reached out, fingers brushing mine as he took the cup.

He glanced down, smelt it, then gave a small shrug. “Still smells good.”

He took a slow sip, his dark eyes lingering on me. My robe had slipped off one shoulder, exposing bare skin—and just enough of my breast to catch his gaze.

I sipped my tea, feeling his eyes on me but pretending not to notice.

“You’re so beautiful, babe,” he said softly.

“Are you trying to get in my pants?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. “I won’t even pretend to be subtle about it, but yes.”

I set my mug down on the bedside table, then stepped toward him. “Well, lucky for you . . .” I let the robe slide from my shoulders and fall to the floor. “I’m not wearing any.”

He couldn’t have put his cup down fast enough.

I crawled over to him, and his hands found my waist, pulling me in. Our lips met, and I slid my tongue into his mouth. I was so eager.

He pulled back slightly. “Wait . . . morning breath. I should brush my teeth.”

“Me too,” I murmured. “I don’t care.”

I kissed him again, deeper this time.

He started to guide me onto my side, but I resisted, pushing back. His dark eyes searched mine, a bit of confusion behind them.

“What are you doing, baby?”

“I want to ride you,” I whispered between kisses on his neck. “I want to be on top this time.”

I couldn’t believe I said that out loud. I’d always dreamt of it—being in control, giving him pleasure in a way I hadn’t before. But I never knew how I’d ask. I figured some men might not like their women to take charge or lead.

Would he like it? Would it hurt? Could I . . . break it? I didn’t know.

What I did know was that I wanted to please him.

“You want to be on top?” he asked.

“Yes . . . but . . .”

He raised an eyebrow. “But . . . ?”

I voiced my concern. “I don’t want to disappoint you, or even hurt you, what if I sit on it wrong and—”

“Baby, you won’t hurt me, trust me, and there’s NO way you could disappoint me. The idea of you on top has got me rock hard!” He nodded in the direction of his member, which was, in fact, rock hard.

He pulled me closer and gave me a long, passionate kiss.

“We’ll do this as slow and long as you like, okay? No pressure.” His big brown eyes poured into mine. “I’ll help you . . .”

Even though my husband wasn’t a virgin before we met, he never once made me feel inexperienced or uncertain these first few times of lovemaking. Instead, he was incredibly understanding and patient. He made me feel safe, even though I have many insecurities when it comes to being sexual and vulnerable.

He knew how to balance intensity with gentleness—even when he was pounding the daylights out of me.

Not breaking eye contact, I straddled him, feeling the firm press of him beneath my thighs, brushing against me with each subtle shift. His hands slid back to my waist, holding me poised just above him.

“Do you want me to talk you through it? Or do you want to try first?” he murmured.

“No, baby—tell me what to do,” I breathed.

His gaze didn’t waver, and when he spoke, his voice dropped into that low, velvet tone that always sent a shiver through me.

“Ease down slowly,” he murmured, his hands firm on my waist, steadying me.

I lowered myself, lining my pussy up with his rock-hard dick. I felt it slowly push through the entry point. I moaned ever so quietly.

“Slower,” he breathed, his fingertips pressing into my hips, holding them steady.

I followed, leading me into the pace he wanted. As his dick made its way up into me, and I felt such pleasure as I took him in whole.

“Just like that . . . Perfect.”

I moved up, then slowly back down, again and again, finding a rhythm.

“Baby, you look so hot on me,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down my thighs before sliding back up to rest on my hips. “How do you feel?”

A soft sigh escaped me. “Mmm . . . it feels so good!”

“Good. Now go a little faster.”

I began to bounce with a steady rhythm, my breasts swaying in front of him, nipples hard and sensitive. One of his hands left my waist, and he teased my nipple between his fingers. The sensation sparked through me, deepening the pleasure inside. One of his hands slipped to my ass, grabbing and giving it a sharp smack. The jolt almost sent me tumbling onto him, and I steadied myself by bracing my hands behind me on either side of his bent legs.

“Ooohhh, babe, this feels too good!” I moaned.

“Keep going, baby girl!”

And I did. I stayed with the rhythm, even as my legs began to burn with effort. I knew I’d be sore later, but I had no intention of stopping. The groans spilling from my man only pushed me further. I wanted to give him back every bit of the love he had poured into me over the past 48 hours.

I slowed down for a moment, just to catch my breath, before rolling my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You feel amazing,” I whispered as I leaned down to kiss him.

His hands slipped from my waist to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling briefly in my hair while his other hand traced the curve of my back. He pushed himself up and tilted his head to meet my breasts. I felt his lips grip one, and his tongue made circles.

“Uhhhh, baby,” I moaned.

I rocked my hips back and forth on him, which he met by squeezing my ass.

“You’re so sexy,” he murmured as his lips left my nipple, his voice rough. “Keep this up and I won’t last long.”

I pulled back into a straddling position, meeting his eyes with a teasing smile.

“Like this, baby?”

His answer was a low, urgent groan. “Yes . . . just like that.”

I moved faster, heavier, barely pausing for breath. The sensation of him filling me was overwhelming, and his moans were music to my ears. All I wanted was to drive him over the edge.

“Ahhh—yes . . . ahhh, fuck!” I whimpered as his cock stroked that perfect spot inside me. Heat spread through my core, and I knew I was close to exploding.

I glanced down, catching my man’s eyes flickering between mine, my breasts, and the place where I moved against him. His grip tightened on my hips, guiding me, lifting and pressing me back down in rhythm.

“I’m gonna cum,” he gritted his teeth.

“So am I—yes, baby, me too!” I gasped.

My body tightened around him, eyes closing as the surge swept through me. A sharp moan came from my lips as my climax consumed me.

He lifted me from his lap, pulling out—and then he came, heat spilling against me, running down my thigh.

For a brief moment, we panted, just staring at each other.

Spent, I collapsed onto his chest, both of us struggling to catch our breath. My legs were now shaking from exhaustion.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured at last, his voice rich with satisfaction.

His fingers combed slowly through my hair, grounding me. I felt the warmth of his skin beneath me, our sweat mingling where we touched.

When I lifted my gaze, I met his deep brown eyes, shining and soft.

“I hope I pleased you, my love,” I whispered.

He grinned, wide and unguarded. “Baby, that was . . . incredible. What a way to wake up.”

“I love you.” I pressed a kiss to his chest.

“And I love you,” he answered, holding me close.

For a few moments, we lay wrapped in each other, as if the world beyond our bed didn’t exist. My heart burst with gratitude—how blessed I was that God had brought such an extraordinary man into my life. And this was only the beginning of our journey together as husband and wife.

“Should we get out of bed and find somewhere to eat for breakfast?” he asked. I felt him shift to look down at me.

I tilted my head up with a mischievous smile, ignoring his question. “Babe?”

He smiled innocently. “Yeah?”

“. . . Can we go again?”