Courtin' Ain't Easy

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By May, he had graduated, and there didn’t seem to be any reason not to pop the question, beyond his dismal job prospects. Which is a good indication of where David’s mind was. Goodness, he didn’t even have a ring for her, so when he invited her over for a candlelit dinner, seated her on the couch, and got down on bended knee, he whipped out his own high school class ring, which even if it had been appropriate would have fit her like socks on a rooster.

Characteristically, she didn’t give him an answer then and there, but he knew her well enough to be confident of what it was going to be. And within a week, she had said yes.

She really was the girl of his dreams, and she really was going to be his wife.

Everything was falling into place perfectly. Even his job prospects couldn’t withstand the tide of his good fortune, and he got hired to keep the books at a home furnishings store owned by a couple that attended the same church. They set their wedding date for the second of the following January. Nothing could stop them now.

Except unemployment. The home furnishings store laid him off two months later. Increasingly desperate efforts to find something else in the area failed. With a month to go until the big day, he’d run out of money and run out of options. He would have to move back home – two hundred miles away from his beloved.

David was crushed. It had been years since he had wept, but he completely broke down when he broke the news to Deanna, who quietly commiserated his sorrow and loss with her own sobs.

But in her heart of hearts, she had to admit that she was relieved. As much as she loved David, she had wanted to push back the wedding at least until she had finished her classwork, and preferably her internship as well. Getting married was a whole other world, and she had been anxious as to whether she could handle all that change and finish up her degree at the same time.

But neither did she want to be indefinitely separated from David, either. He was a part of her life, and she knew it would be difficult to have that ripped away from her.

And so they just held each other, swaying back and forth, on that cold, dismal day that was, both figuratively and literally, the darkest they had known.

But unless you’re dead, life always does go on. And so while Deanna continued with her schoolwork, David settled in at his parents’ house, job-hunted, and otherwise just…existed. Which, in practice, meant laying around the house in his sweats, watching lots and lots and lots of bad TV, eating like a band of rampaging Vikings, and bathing when the occasional fancy struck him, or every two weeks, whichever came first.

Every other weekend was what he came to live for, because that was when he hopped in his dented 1973 Plymouth Duster and rocketed down to visit Deanna. Which only served to sear his longing for her into his heart, and remind him that it was infernally difficult to cram two weeks into two days.

These visits would run the full gamut, from stormy arguments over minutia to intense reconciliations that invariably smacked up against their self-imposed barrier. And much of the fuel behind this sturm und drang was simply that they couldn’t plan for their future because they frankly didn’t know if there would be one.

This was David’s greatest fear. As the months went by, and the job prospects with it, and nothing turned up, he began to wonder whether he’d have anything by the time Deanna was done with her internship. Once she was out into her career, he feared that she might give up on him as a lost cause/loser, and leave him behind. And the reason he thought that a real possibility is because if she did so, he really wouldn’t be able to blame her. Alternatively, the prospect of being a househusband wasn’t something that he thought he could live with, even if it meant that they could be together.

Such was the state of affairs that David and Deanna found themselves in on this warm fourth of July night, when his hand found her tit, and she slammed on the brakes yet again.

It was enough to drive just about any guy stark fucking crazy.

And quite a few gals as well.

It was on this night that Deanna popped her own cherry with the aforementioned under-ripe banana. She had no idea where she had gotten the won’t-power to pull up on David’s reins tonight. She had been so wet she had completely soaked through her panties. Her nipples had been so painfully erect that if David’s fingers had reached them, he’d have known beyond all doubt how much she wanted him, wanted his mouth and tongue to suck on them, wanted his turgid cock buried deep inside her, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop – and she wouldn’t have wanted him to.

So after David dropped her off, she darted as casually as she could for his grandma’s fridge, selected an appropriately phallic banana, grabbed a jar of Vaseline from the main bathroom, retreated to her room, greased it up, and slid it inside herself. Such was the frenzy of her passion that she didn’t notice the pain, and that Chiquita banged her pussy as her mind imagined it was David’s cock while her thumb rubbed her clit. Higher and higher ramped her arousal until she soared into a shuddering orgasm that so squeezed the banana that its pulp burst forth like a huge load of cum.

It made a helluva mess, especially for a person as normally fastidious as Deanna was. But she didn’t even make this discovery until the following morning, falling instantly asleep naked, on top of the sheets, with a peel sticking out of her twat like would-be mutant offspring.

Fortunately for her, David’s grandma respected her privacy, which didn’t avert her mortification at the condition in which she found herself as the sun rose over a most unique morning after. “This puts a whole new twist on the phrase, ‘banana split,’” she giggled nervously, wondering if it wouldn’t be less degrading for them to simply consummate their relationship, even if it would be earlier than planned.

One thing was certain, she knew: she was committed to David, no matter what happened. And she could only think of one way to show it to him.

Fortunately for them (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), his long job search finally reached fruition. They could once again set a date. The wedding was on once again!

Paradoxically, this home stretch was the most maddening, as they were still separated, though they were able to see each other every weekend instead of every other. Moreover, Deanna was no longer staying with her folks, but was renting a room near the hospital where she was doing her internship. And while they did manage to busy themselves on these visits with planning the details of their long-awaited blessed day, it was still all they could do to keep their hands off each other. One weekend she surprised him for lunch at his office and stayed the weekend at what would be their first apartment and made a point of telling him that she was going to take a bath before he got home. Which caused him to snap every pencil in his drawer and have to visit the men’s room until the bulge in his trousers diminished to something not totally embarrassing. She really WAS a master of sweet torture.

Finally months shrank to weeks, and weeks shrank to days, and the day had arrived.

And David was petrified.

Not afraid of going through with the ceremony – God, he wanted that, wanted HER, more than anything in the world. His whole life had been put on hold because of his love for her. This was what he had dreamed of, lived for, for more than two years.

But he was so psyched up, adrenaline boiling through his bloodstream, that he absolutely could not sleep.

When his friends showed up at his place preparatory to the drive to Deanna’s hometown, and threw him the traditional bachelor party, he outlasted them all, even as he seemed distracted. He went to pick up his rented tux, and didn’t notice that the damn thing was big enough for John Candy and Chris Farley to occupy at the same time. The night before the big day, he literally could not close his eyes, and spent the night watching the numbers tick by on the digital clock next to his hotel bed.

By the time dawn arrived, David was completely wired and equally wasted. And he hadn’t touched a drop of any adult beverage.

He and his party went to the church – the same church at which he had noticed a certain beautiful swan two years before – and got ready upstairs as Deanna and her party were downstairs. David dimly realized the gross mis-fit of his tux, and heaved a sigh of relief when he found a set of suspenders in the garment bag. Then, after donning it, and making his way “backstage,” he promptly and absently plopped himself down right on the edge of a table with a layer of dust on it three inches thick. Which created the rather curious sight to the minister of the best man delivering a stiff spanking to the groom while the latter kept nodding off.

For David, the ceremony unfolded like a dream – literally. He walked out on the stage robotically, concentrating, WILLING himself not to fall over. He was counting on his best man to hold him up, Charlie McCarthy-like, if necessary.

And then, he saw her. And it was a moment he would never forget.

Deanna, wearing a white, off the shoulder dress, with a white corona headpiece, holding a small bible swaddled in a bouquet of white roses. Radiant. The loveliest sight that ever was and ever would be.

All his.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not during the pastor’s remarks, not during the singing, not during the vows, not during the lighting of the unity candle, not during the recessional. The only thing that registered in his consciousness was when the pastor announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present Mr. and Mrs. David Leonard.” Which glued his eyes on his – WIFE! – all the more to make sure that it was real and it had actually happened.

The reception was a blur of faces familiar and unknown, endless picture snapping, and a dainty mutual feeding of cake that drew chants of “Bigger pieces! Bigger pieces!” from the assembled well-wishers. He changed clothes as though his hands were autonomous, mildly crestfallen that they couldn’t change in the same room together.

It was raining rice outside the church. At first he thought it was hail. And then his cameraman collared him and informed him that he had to get going and that David would have to return the camcorder. “Thanks again,” he called after him.

“Why do we have to bother with this now? I want to GET there and play, play, play,” Deanna whined.

“Does anybody know a short cut to the video place?” David bellowed to anybody within earshot.

Had it been summertime, he’d have had to stop at the first rest area they came to, drag Deanna into the back seat, tear her clothes off, and ravish her. As it was they were navigating through a winter storm to reach the mountain resort that was their honeymoon destination, and simply staying on the road monopolized his disintegrating attention.

At long last, they arrived at the resort, checked in, and lugged their bags to their room. The door shut and they were alone. Husband and wife.

All barriers gone.

With a giggle Deanna flat-backed herself on the bed, and David was right behind her. He frenched her with untrammeled lust, and started nibbling down her neck, over her collarbones, and kept right on going, unfastening buttons as he went.

Then she stopped him.

“Let’s go for a walk on the boardwalk. It’ll be so romantic.”

“Honey, it’s 26 degrees outside. Are you planning on taking a swim?”

“I want to take this slow and savor every moment of it, lover. Please?”

Half an hour later they finally went back inside, his ears aflame with what felt like the early stages of frostbite. They hadn’t been able to even hold hands for fear that their palms would weld together. The lake surface was actually steaming, or at least the portion of it that wasn’t totally frozen over. They could almost have taken a wooden shack with a built-in stove, drilled a hole in the ice, and gone fishing.

It sure was an effective version of a cold shower, though. And it had made him hungry.

Dinner was elegant and yes, romantic. Each course whetted his appetite for the next one, and the very special “dessert” that was waiting later on.

Soon they were “back in the room again.” David mused that Mork from Ork was right – that DID sound like a Willie Nelson song. And without a word, Deanna came to him, put her hands on either side of his face, drew his lips to hers, and kissed him with the kind of deliberation that never failed to “light his pilot light.” Then she grabbed her bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

Whistling antsily, he walked over to peer out between the drawn curtains. Nothing but cold darkness, inter-sprinkled with some harbor lights. He shivered.

Suddenly he felt her soft hands cover his eyes. “Here’s your bag. Go in and get ready.” Not knowing what she had in mind, but eagerly anticipating it, he obeyed.

The mere act of solitary disrobing was exhilarating on this night. As he pulled his underwear down, his cock sprang forth, longer and thicker and harder than ever. Shit, it didn’t even look like his cock. It reminded him of the locker room nickname he’d been given in junior high school: banana-dick.

He stepped into the shower, and the hot water was incredible on his skin. It was as if he was one six foot, two inch, two hundred pound G-spot.

Just as he was immersing his head, the door to the shower stall opened, and Deanna stepped in, putting her arms around him from behind and fondling his nipples.

David nearly had a stroke.

He turned around on instinct, but stopped up short when he saw that Deanna was crying. It so impacted him emotionally that he almost didn’t notice her incendiary nudity. He started leaking around the eyes himself, and they embraced, skin to skin, rigid prick temporarily forgotten even as it indented her smooth stomach. And so the circle that began a year earlier with sorrow was closed with joy.

And now it was about to become bliss.

David gently kissed away Deanna’s tears. Truth be told, he couldn’t tell which were tears and which were shower droplets. He also didn’t care, because it meant more for him to kiss.

Soon their lips came together, and then their tongues. And as the warm liquid flowed around them, the thirst of their own yearnings, and the coursing of their own fluids, became irresistible.

Deanna’s first words upon touching David’s cock were, “It’s so big!” Which made him grin broadly, and her as well as she thought how much like that long-ago banana it really was. She began stroking it lazily as his hands roamed her body. “Do that much more and I’ll blow out the side of the stall,” he gasped.

“Really?” she replied innocently.

Reaching over and turning off the water, but without letting go of his cock, Deanna led him, dripping, out to the bed. Still holding on to him, she lay down on the bed and drew him down alongside her. Her hands then embarked upon an exploration of David’s body to match what his gave hers. They touched each other everywhere, with everything. Hands, fingers, mouth, nose, tongue, genitals, breasts. There wasn’t an inch of either’s skin that didn’t touch every last inch of the other’s. And it was done with a slow sensuality that at the same time held release at bay and beckoned it, keeping it hovering just beyond reach, and almost beyond endurance.

Finally the main event arrived, and they were both ready for it. God, were they ready for it. Deanna pulled up her legs, and David climbed on top of her as she guided his now monster cock into position at her vaginal opening.

Only…it wouldn’t open. Deanna had gotten so excited that her vaginal muscles were actually cramped, and there was no way for David to get his cock inside of her. The condition was gynecologically known as vaginisimus.

The thought crossed David’s mind to start whimpering uncontrollably. Instead he resumed the lip march he began when they arrived, starting from her lips, down her neck, to her breasts, where he lingered savoringly, and then down her midriff to her pubic mound.

Then he licked right up her crease, and she shrieked.

It was the most incredible thing Deanna had ever felt – even better than the banana. It hadn’t even occurred to her. She was feeling anxious that she had tightened up and couldn’t accommodate David’s member. They had waited for this moment for all this time, fighting off the urges and the temptation to keep themselves pure for their wedding night, and now they still couldn’t consummate their union. She had so looked forward to pleasing her new husband, and was starting to feel terrible that she was disappointing him. Instead, he set aside his own need, and simply loved her a different way.

Deanna had never really thought about oral sex. It’s why she was so non-plussed when David had touched upon it months before. She knew about kissing and touching with hands and intercourse, but oral pleasuring was just something she’d never considered. But now her pussy was getting licked and probed and kissed, and her clit was getting the kind of attention that had her eyes rolling back in her head, hoarse moans tearing from her throat, and her body writhing and thrashing around on the bed. It felt like one long orgasm, as David succeeded in getting her to her peak and then suspending her there as if she were weightless. Finally she had to reach down and gently pull David up beside her for fear that she’d lose her mind with the pleasure.

“Oh, my God, I didn’t know that existed, honey. Where, how did you learn to do that? That was incredible.”

Stroking her face, David murmured, “Well, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and I was at that end of you anyway, so I figured `Why not?’ By the way, you taste great,” he added, grinning again.

“But you aren’t about to be `less filling,’” his wife challenged. “Now I’m going to return the favor.”

A torrent of words poured through David’s spinning mind. “Oh, my God, did she really, does she really mean what I think she, AAAAAHHHH YESSSSS,” he blurted as most of his banana dick disappeared into Deanna’s mouth. She was proving to be as fast an oral learner as he had been, and she made it excruciatingly slow as well. Slowly her lips slid down his shaft, and then slowly they rose, while her tongue slathered the veined underside and head in concert with the suction. If he had hypnotized her into sucking off his gear shift, it would have ripped out his transmission.

Taking her queues from his groaning, she gradually sped up the pace of her sucking until he hung at the precipice, cum gathered at the base of his cock, holding his breath, every muscle contracted in anticipation. Then, after that moment’s hesitation, she mauled his cockhead while pumping him furiously, and his load blasted forth, landing partially in her mouth and splattering on both sides of her face, dripping down her chin, and still he shot forth spurt after spurt. He’d imagined blowjobs, but this exceeded his wildest expectations.

Looking down at the impossibly erotic sight before him, David drawled, “You’re not so bad yourself, Mrs. Leonard.”

As menstruation would have it, Deanna started her period the next day. But that didn’t stop the oral hijinx, as he gave her another facial. And when the red tide had passed, they found that they fit each other like a glove.

And that it had been well worth the wait.

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