“Thank you, sir, enjoy your evening!”
“Thanks. Hey, erm… Do you have any… Err… Tips?”
“… Excuse me?”
I slam the door in his face, sweating despite the cool air-conditioning. Heart pounding in my chest, I look down at my shaking hands in disbelief, the golden band around my ring finger glistening in the bright room lights.
Right. I’m married now. I turn around to face my now literally blushing bride, standing nervously by the king-sized bed in her gorgeous gown. Her hands clasped and fidgeting, her eyes staring intently at the floor, as if hoping she could will herself into a less awkward room below. This was it… Right? The magical moment, the wonder of wonders, the thing that God tells you to save specifically for marriage because it’s so wonderful: Sex.
But what God didn’t tell us is how freaking awkward it would be if this were your first time!
For years we had religiously maintained that we would have no sexual activities in this relationship, having both come from religious households where even holding hands in public was frowned upon. In private, in secret, we would sometimes hug, even make-out, but every time things got too intense we would stop it. Similar to an extended “no fap” challenge (look it up), we channeled our energies into other productive things instead, developing our careers and becoming living legends within our own communities.
So here we stand. Virgins. As God intended. Yeap. This is awkward.
She gasps, and I realize far too late that I had said that all out loud. Silently cursing myself, I stride forward to stand in front of her, raising my own hands to hold her arms, now freezing in the cold room. She looks up at me, tears of frustration and fear in her eyes, and I consider for a moment everything that could be said: Reassurances that everything would be alright, encouragement to indulge in her most repressed desires, or even comfort that we would be together through it all.
Well, there is one perfect way to say all of that.
I lean in and kiss her, softly on the lips. One peck becomes two, and two turn into a long, passionate, drawn out kiss. My arms wrap around her waist, her own encircle my neck, our bodies pulling together, our breathing now desperate as we pause briefly for air. Our lips lock once more, every touch electric, our skin feverish.
Then the moment ended. We pull away. Staring at each other, we slowly realize that it was at this point we would always stop, always find an excuse to leave the room. This was the great hurdle we would never cross. Could never cross.
“Turn around,” I say, surprised by the stoic assurance in my own voice, “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. Turn around,” She obeys, and I take her in my arms once more, my lips pressed against her neck. Gently, I inhale, breathing her perfume specially chosen for this day. Softly, I lay a trail of kisses along her neck, rewarded by a gasp from her as her own arms wrap around my own. Carefully, as if I would shatter her, I stroked her stomach through her dress, my fingers trailing up to her bust. Her breathing grows heavier, and I comfort her with more kisses. My hands wrap around her breasts, kept safe under layers of dress.
Shit. That needs to get out of the way.
“As your husband,” I whisper in her ear, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice, “It is my duty to care for you. I think we need to get you out of this… Uncomfortable…”
“Expensive,” she smirks, turning to look me in the eye. I can’t help but smile back.
“Uncomfortably expensive dress,” She nods, and my hands trail to the zip on her back, carefully pulling it down, but not letting it fall away from her body. Her hands fall away from mine as she surrenders to my control. Slowly I peel the dress away from her.
Her breasts are unveiled, round and full, nipples erect and taut in the cold air. I can practically see the goosebumps on her skin, hypnotized by their rise and fall as her breathing quickens. A glance to her face tells me she’s enjoying the attention, and I resume her undressing. The dress falls to her hips, and with a slight shimmy I eventually pull it to the floor, and come face-to-ass with the most gorgeously toned ass you could imagine. Round and supple, I could practically smell her juices from where I was, and I could see her inner thighs were damp with her desire.
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t wear panties at the altar?” I breathed incredulously as I stood, my arms wrapped around her once again, now cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples, enjoying every twitch of her body as I touched her for the first time. Her ass pushes into my crotch, feeling my growing erection as she involuntarily grinds against me.
She turns in my arms and gives me one more kiss, before pulling away, wearing the most wicked smile I had ever seen.
“Husband,” she purrs, “Would you like a bath?”
Another quick story as I continue to find my footing. Pacing is difficult in this genre, any feedback and criticism is welcome.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9hrc66/virgin_husband_get_that_damned_dress_off
Nice!!