Two Virgins, One Wife

This story is loosely based on a true event that happened with a friend of mine about twenty years ago. It follows the general flow of events, as he intimated them to me; but I had to embellish, since I wasn't actually there.

I've had two virgin brides, but I've only been married once.

I've walked down the aisle twice, said my vows twice, and deflowered my bride twice.

But I've only been married once.

Let's back up to the beginning, shall we?

I was not a popular teen. I was a geek, I'll admit it. I was smart, and funny, witty, and knowledgeable in the bargain, but I never had many dates.

It should come as no surprise I entered college a virgin.

It was a continuation of high school, except now I was preparing for my future... a lonely one, it was looking like. Yeah, teen angst.

Then I met Constance.

She was tall, a shade shorter than me (I'm right at 6'), with shoulder-length auburn hair, medium build, and breasts to die for. During the summer before senior year, we were introduced by mutual friends, who immediately faded into the background as we tuned into one another.

It was love at first sight, no bout a doubt it.

We dated, slowly at first, then with more heat and more passion. We kept ourselves in check, though; no sense ruining things.

We began to discuss our attitudes about intimate matters. We both concluded sex was important; but she was a virgin (so was I, big surprise) and she would relinquish that ONLY to her husband on her wedding night.

Shortly after that conversation, we agreed to be married.

That was April of our senior year, and we made the announcement during the Memorial Day weekend, right after graduation. We had surreptitiously gathered both families, then we dropped the word on them.

Well. "Happy" isn't adequate; both sides were ecstatic.

We settled into jobs -- I was an accountant, working toward a CPA; she had earned a BSN (Nursing) -- and began planning the wedding.

Fast forward to the next May. We married in a church service, a neutral setting with both our pastors officiating, families beaming, a lifetime of joy stretching before us.

We absconded to our waiting B&B for the wedding night, and that's when it all turned to shit.

We kissed passionately, undressed one another, touching and licking and generally adoring one another's bits. We descended into the hot tub for some freshening up (we HAD been dressed and sweating for a while, after all). We explored one another's most exciting parts; I fingered her to a sweet orgasm, feeling the hymen I was soon to rupture.

We retired to the bed, and she said, "I want you in me."

I positioned myself at the right place, nudged the head of my penis into her, and said, "This is supposed to hurt for a second...?"

She nodded. "I know," she whispered. "Take my virginity."

With one swift thrust, I complied.

She screamed like a banshee, swatted at me to get off, and nearly took my penis off getting out from under me.

"What the FUCK did you do?" she screeched, blood trickling down her thighs, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"I did what we had to do... I don't get it...?" I babbled.

"You almost fucking KILLED me!" she wailed.

"Sweetie, you knew it was going to hurt the first time," I soothed.

"That was RAPE, you asshole!" she spat.

I honestly did not know what to do.

She retreated into the bathroom and stayed there, despite all my entreaties, for the next two hours.

I finally gave up, got dressed and into bed, and fell partly asleep. I was dimly aware when she crawled into bed, scooting as far to the other side as was possible. She was clearly still upset; I wept silently, frustrated, tired and shaken, not knowing what else to do.

The next day she arose before me, got dressed, and motioned for me to do the same, before we went downstairs to breakfast.

The proprietor, a matronly woman named Martha, gushed, "So how did the newlyweds sleep last night?" There was an emphasis on the word "sleep."

"Like there was no one else in the world," piped up my dear bride, to chuckles all around the table. She cut me a look that dared me to say a word.

We went through the motions of saying good-bye to our families, who had gathered to see us boarding the airplane to our honeymoon in the Bahamas. Once aboard, she never looked at me, never said a word, the whole trip down.

I tried to talk to her, to put a hand on her arm, to touch her in any way I could. She was having none of it.

Finally, after we checked into our room in Nassau, I took her by the arms and held her directly in front of me. "What the HELL is going on with you?" I demanded.

She shook loose. "You ever touch me again and I'll kill you," she said, through slitted eyes.

"Constance! What in the HELL is wrong with you? This is our honeymoon!" I was mad and getting madder.

"You raped me," she hissed. "You took that... that THING, and rammed it into me. I thought I'd died," she said.

"But you KNEW first-time sex was supposed to be painful. I mean, didn't you?"

"My mother told me it would hurt, but that was rape," she repeated.

Just like flicking a light switch, I was suddenly calm. "Okay, Constance," I said quietly. She retreated into the bathroom, just as on our wedding night.

When she came out, I don't know; but within sixty minutes I was on a flight back to the US.

A week went by, and I heard nothing from her. I was on vacation, technically, so I puttered around my apartment, spent time at the gym, and generally filled the hours with everything I could think of.

It was ten days after the wedding, around seven in the evening. Someone was banging at my door, hard and insistent.

I opened the door between thumps, and Jake, Constance's father, stumbled in. He picked himself up and cried, "You BASTARD!!! What did you do to my daughter?"

Without waiting for an answer, he advanced and swung at me. I sidestepped him and cut his legs out from under him with a kick.

Constance and her mother entered at that moment, and everyone was shouting at once. I clapped my hands together a couple of times, and the three of them hushed.

I grabbed the phone. "The next one of you makes a threatening move, I dial 911," I said, meaning it.

"What did you do to my daughter?" asked her mother, clearly pissed.

"Nothing," I replied.

"BULLSHIT" screamed Constance. "You raped me!"

"It was your first time having sex!' I yelled. "You knew it would hurt. You TOLD me as much."

"It didn't need to hurt that much," she whined.

Her parents looked at her, then at one another.

I stared at her. "Tell them," I commanded. "One time ONLY! My first and ONLY thrust into you produced a lot of pain, which YOU choose to label as rape."

Her mother looked at her. "One time only?" she repeated.

"It hurt, mother!" Constance cried.

"Well, of course it did! You were a virgin, weren't you?" her mother bellowed.

Constance lowered her head and wept. "Yes, but it was horrible!"

Her father was up on his feet again. He looked at his daughter with contempt, and then at his wife, and then at me. "Can we overlook this, uhm, unpleasantness?" he asked at length.

"Fuck you," I replied. "I will NEVER welcome you into my home again. This marriage will be annulled as soon as I can arrange it. Get out. NOW!" I held up the phone, and they filed out the door.

In the next weeks, her parents tried to patch things up with me. I rebuffed all attempts. They had spent lots of money on the wedding, and I was regretful about that; but their daughter had screwed them over, not me.

I had the marriage annulled, and went into hermit mode. My one and only piece of pussy had caused me too much heartache.

But hey, legally, it had never happened.

Eventually, of course, I came out of my shell. I met another young woman, Sheila by name, by whatever miracle also still a virgin, and we became close despite my attempts to remain distant. We discussed my first situation; she assured me she would never do such a thing. Pain was a natural part of making love, she said, as it was with childbearing. "We sacrifice for those we love," she said with a smile.

Eventually we married, and I parted her hymen with pain and pleasure. When I broke through her barrier, she grimaced, held me tightly, and said, "Give me just a second, baby." We resumed after a moment, and she had multiple orgasms at my hand (or penis). She enjoyed herself, clearly; she welcomed me into her sweet valley anytime I wanted to be there, thereafter, dragging me in from time to time to accommodate her needs.

Thank heaven, she has lots of needs. Almost as many as mine.

We have five precious children, and I am one happy man.

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Epilogue

I was at a hospital recently, visiting a friend dying of cancer. Constance was a ward nurse. It was an awkward meeting, but I felt okay.

After some small talk, I mentioned I had married another virgin -- I worded it that way to dig it in a little, for better of for worse. She lowered her head, and said, "I know. I got over it. I met a nice guy, who didn't have to put up with... well, what you put up with. We have a good life, and a couple of kids."

She turned and walked away.