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Needless to say, I hadn't managed to get my hands on her sweet body. Other than a few lip sucking sessions, any time I tried to move forward she put me off, saying that she was a good girl and would go to her marriage bed a virgin. Obviously there were no "overnighters" at my place. I hadn't even seen her in a swimsuit, much less naked. She still had a curfew even.
Even my semi pleading and moaning that I couldn't take it anymore, had no effect on her. Talk about strong willed... phew. Not even a hand job and certainly not a blow job. "Good girls don't do that," she would say.
Finally I accepted defeat: Ten months after I first met her I asked her to marry me. No, you philistines, it wasn't just to get laid. She really was the personification of everything I wanted in a woman.
...
Still sitting in my kitchen sipping my coffee, I thought "Yes, that was the first marker I should have recognised. Without any "try before you buy" situations, I had no idea what was to follow as we finally reached the great wedding day and, even more importantly as far as I was concerned, the wedding night.
...
That night was an unmitigated disaster, at least as far as sex was concerned. She was petrified. Her mother and even her sisters had told her all sorts of stories about what to expect.
I lay naked on the large Californian bed provided in the honeymoon suite of our Hotel room. Excitedly awaiting my new bride. I had pulled back the covers and all was ready: Two wine glasses sat next to an opened bottle of Champagne laying in a wine bucket. It was a beautiful Tattinger. Just right for the occasion, I thought. Subdued lighting created a romantic atmosphere with soft jazz music playing gently in the background. It could barely be heard: simply assisting in the overall setting.
Christina had finally emerged from the bathroom wearing a white cotton nightgown that hung to her knees. She then had insisted that all the lighting be turned off; that she was uncomfortable being seen naked and didn't want to be embarrassed. What's a man to do for his beautiful, new Bride when he wants the main course to begin? So, naturally I quickly pressed the appropriate buttons on the remote and we were in darkness.
The lights were all off. The room wasn't pitch black and I could see her ghostly shape approach the bed but I couldn't actually see her body very clearly.
My lovely new bride climbed onto the bed and positioned herself lengthways down almost the centre of the bed. She was trembling with nerves and my heart went out for her as I realised I would have to take the lead and show her what love was all about. Not just fuck her, you understand but make love to her. That's when the next round of barriers began to be raised. Mmm. More markers that I should have noticed, I realised.
We kissed. My beautiful Christina put her arms around me and pulled me to her. Finally, I thought, she will be mine. I started to play with her breasts over the top of the nightgown. They felt fantastic. Amazing. I wanted to see them and taste them and lick and suck on her very hard nipples. I began pulling up her gown with a view to removing it.
"No, my husband," she said. "I'm not ready to be seen naked just yet. Please... can we just get it over with," she stated nervously. "Just put it in."
Talk about a romantic balloon buster! But I decided to do all I could to help get my lovely virginal bride through this night and reined in my surging lust. I resolved to make this just right for her first time.
We recommenced our kissing and I decided that perhaps some oral sex for her would help her relax more, so began kissing down her body. She must have realised my intent as her two hands grasped my head saying, "No, I don't do that. It's wrong and dirty. Please just love me. Please, please."
I should have realised by now that I was dealing with major issues but my mind was clouded by lust for my bride. I relented.
Finally, with no other options, I moved my hand under the gown, seeking the "Garden of Eden". The "holy grail" of her body. I found it and could feel some marvellous, full, meaty lips under a soft pelt of her pubic hair. But... she was dry. No arousal at all except for a faint moisture as I attempted to insert a finger.
Hell, this is far worse than I thought possible. She was obviously so wound up, so nervous that she wasn't enjoying any of what we were doing. As a responsible husband and lover to be, I must put aside all thoughts of personal pleasure and do whatever I could to make this night something for her to remember fondly.
I removed my finger from her pussy and brought my hand up to my mouth and inserted my digit into my mouth and sucked. Mmm I said, "You taste divine."
Christina just looked at me, so shocked she was speechless. Although I hadn't realised it at the time; it came out later on the honeymoon as I finally managed to get her to discuss various issues.
Tears were now trickling down her beautiful face and she looked at me with her big, doe-like eyes.
"Please," I heard between sobs. "Please, I have to do my duty on my wedding night. My family expects it. A wife must give her body to her husband. Please... love me."
Stupid, retarded me finally realised what she really meant; simply have sex with her. Not "make love" to her or even to "fuck" her but simply "Take item A, one penis... and insert into Item B, one vagina". Voila. Sex has been had and she would no longer be a virgin.
Most of her views only came out as we discussed things over the course of the honeymoon. She had been told to do her duty to her husband on her wedding night. To expect pain and an uncaring swine of a male who would take his pleasure from her body without any thought of pleasure for her. That she had to endure it, for the sake of having a family and being "the perfect wife".
Boy, was I going to have a stormy discussion with her fucked up parents. Those fundamental, religious nutters. What had they done to this wonderful girl as she grew up?
Did we have sex? Yes, if you could call it that. Without being aroused and with her a virgin to boot, I knew that sex would be a painful experience if not handled correctly. However, she was adamant that she must be "broken in" on her wedding night.
I grabbed a tube of KY that I had brought with me, in case we indulged in some anal sex. Anal! Ha, ha. I must have been dreaming.
By coating myself liberally with it and gently pushing some inside her vagina, I finally managed to insert myself into her body. I won't go into the tightness and difficulty of the insertion as there was nothing erotic about it whatsoever. Technically, she was no longer a virgin.
Christina had lain there like a block of ice or a dead body. I found out later that she thought that to move or offer encouragement was wrong. She was not supposed to refuse me but if she assisted, she was no better than a whore. What the fuck! Hardly the makings of a sensual, romantic wedding night. Or any night, for that matter.
Did things improve throughout the honeymoon? On the relationship side, yes, very much so. But sexually, only by small, toddler steps.
Still no lights on and she absolutely refused to allow me to go down on her. "No, it's dirty. Please don't do that. Only whores do that. You want me to suck what? No, no, never. I'm your wife, not some cheap whore." Finally, "If you really love me you won't ask me to do..." and a list of actions grew. Blowjobs? Ha, ha, ha. Are you crazy? She wouldn't even touch my cock much less suck on it.
It took a few days after our wedding night before she allowed me to have sex with her again. By then I was practically demanding my marital rights and she gave it. While the pain for her was still there necessitating liberal use of KY, there was never any real pleasure I could see or feel. What sort of marriage future faced me, was my dominating thought. How can I change things? I want an equal partner in making love, not a necrophilia sex session.
...
I had almost finished my coffee, perched in my kitchen chair. Yes, the wedding night and honeymoon, that's when I had let things get away from me, I decided. That's when the big warning sirens should have sounded. But what sort of loving husband would I have been if I had forced her to do numerous things she didn't want to do?
Her eyes would well up, the tears would begin. The look in her doe eyes would be one of love but with a big dose of "If you really love me, why would you make me do these vile, disgusting things?" It was no use: I loved her. I wanted her to "want" to do these things together. Not insist and thereby practically rape her.
I had allowed her to do things... or not do things, I mirthlessly grinned... and so that became the norm for our sex life. By the end of our honeymoon I still had not seen my wonderful wife in all her naked glory. My imagination was running wild but she still resisted all my attempts to make her a "naked whore" as she described it.
...
After the honeymoon, when we were back home, I contacted her father and asked for a meeting with just the two of us. It was only then that I discovered the real story of her family.
I knew they were religious and that Christina and her family members were very close but the true extent just baffled me.
He was very open about things, given I was now considered a family member being the son-in-law. In fact he was proud of what he had achieved.
Both he and his wife were academically very bright. They had found "god" after they married and created their own church and registered it, for tax reasons. Like I said, no dummy. There were only about 20 families that were members of his church and meetings were held in a hall, owned by a member. No visitors were allowed; only family members which is why I had never been invited. I wondered why Christina had never mentioned it before until he said that no one was supposed to talk about the church except to other family members.
Christina and her two sisters and two brothers had all been home schooled and all family members worked in companies owned either by his family or their extended group of members. Financially, he was very successful. That explained a few things, I thought. Discipline was very strict and there were numerous rules for the family to follow, he continued explaining. It seemed to be almost a hybrid of the Mormon Church regarding clothing, mixed with Methodist and Baptist ideologies but twisted for his exacting requirements. There was a Bible but I didn't know if it was the Book of Joseph Smith or a Christian Bible. There was no television for the kids growing up; just monitors for playing videos and later, DVDs.
Then the juicy stuff came out. Women were expected to accede to their husband's wishes. The man was definitely the head of the house. How convenient for him, I thought. Sex was for procreation only, the females were taught. No recreational sex was allowed. Masturbation was a definite no. Damn, I thought. This idiot is one step away from having the females circumcised to make sure the women gained no pleasure. No wonder Christina was so fucked up in her views. He had practically brainwashed the poor wretch.
It was "God's Will," he attempted to sum up. I must have faith and He will provide. I summed him up myself and we had a screaming match as I called him a misogynous dinosaur and a religious, fundamentalist nutter who should have been jailed for fucking up his wonderful daughter's life. Not to mention all her siblings and mother as well.
Needless to say, the meeting didn't end well and I've now been excommunicated before even having been admitted to the family inner-sanctum.
The strange thing is, Christina stayed with me. She said I was her husband and her place was by my side. Damn, I thought. Her misguided loyalties were forcing her to stay with me even though by doing so, she was now excluded from the family. She was allowed to continue working in one of her father's business's though. More for them to keep an eye on her, I decided.
This situation continued for weeks, then it became months. No real changes to our sex life. She still "did her duty" three times a week. Missionary position, five minutes tops of thrusting, no nudity and certainly no other frills around the sex act. This couldn't continue, I finally concluded. This wasn't a real marriage. Not one I wanted, anyway.
I thought, if sex is only to procreate then Christina could get pregnant at any time. However, she told me her friend Julie had convinced her to go on the contraceptive pill so she didn't get pregnant in case we broke up. Umm thanks, I think. It didn't do much for my confidence.
Thus began the beginning of the end for my marriage as I gave thought to what I could do to make drastic changes that would either result in an improved situation... or create an explosion that would kill any possibility for a future together. There was a third possible outcome that I hadn't even considered that later came back to haunt me.
...
To Fuck, or not to Fuck, that is the question. Forget the nobler of mind part.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, I sounded off in my mind. I thought back to my party days with the financial Broker's crowd. As a person living on the fringe, not really being a go-getter broker type, I was always considered non-threatening. My reputation grew as a person that could be trusted to keep their dirty, sexual secrets. A person who would happily take one of the model/actress ladies home and give her a damn good fucking if they "struck out" meeting the latest whiz kid. Plus, who would keep quiet about it as well.
Over a 4 or 5 year period I slowly drifted into a strange role. The women talked among themselves and I was often mentioned as a great stand-by sex partner should their current boyfriend or husband as I later realised, became too "wasted" to perform sexually. This was before the "friends-with-benefits" phrase was bandied about.
I was never drunk, always clean and presentable and totally trustworthy and silent. I respected the women and they could sense that. The women trusted me and also, strangely, so did the men.
I also realised that I wasn't there to make "love" to the women but to fuck them. To get them off: to provide pleasure. I had always concentrated on doing things to a women that SHE enjoyed. That aroused HER. That highlighted HER pleasure. I was so focused on ensuring her pleasure that mine was almost secondary. The women enjoyed that tremendously and didn't want to be made love to. Their boyfriend/husband was there for that. Plus, they also knew I was not attempting to lure them away from their partner and that kept their partner happy. Yes, often the partner knew in advance what was going to happen and was ok with it.
Without realising it, I found myself more and more being involved in threesomes. A semi-wasted husband enjoyed watching me make love (when I was really just fucking her) to his wife/girlfriend. Then normally he would join in briefly... cum and go, so to speak and by then I was ready for another round to finish off the evening.
The more they watched, the more they wanted me to do with or to their lady. That led me to role playing. Often where I would tie up the lady to the bed. Handcuffs, leg restraints, blindfold. Hot wax, feather stroking. You get the picture. I would be carefully watching the woman, searching for what she enjoyed and tailoring my actions to what aroused her. By trial and error I managed to work out what she gained pleasure from, in line with what he enjoyed watching. The enjoyable part for me was that almost every woman was different in what they wanted. So it was exciting to discover those differences.
Mentally, I was distanced from my actions. I was providing a "fucking" service while totally respecting both parties. They loved it. Both of them. I was able to explore all sorts of things that generally get called BDSM. Sort of "50 Shades of Grey" personalised for each.
Women don't really understand that, for a loving partner, men find it extremely difficult to do things like restraining the woman they love in cuffs etc. As for lightly whipping them with a flogger, teasing them sexually with vibrators and dildos in their pussy's and ass... well, many just can't bring themselves to do it. To a stranger maybe but to the wife they love: No.
But I could. I was able to separate making love from fucking. Remember, I was no stud. Average sized cock, average performance. Twice was normal and sometimes three times if I had enough time to recover but that was that. For the woman, twice with me and once or twice with her partner, meant a busy night. Particularly if I managed to arouse her to orgasm with the role playing and toys. This is when I began to get an understanding of how far a woman's erotic creativity could go. Amazing really. Most men would be shocked. LOL.
My last couple of years on the party circuit was most enjoyable.
However, from the day I met my lovely Christina, I stopped. Went cold turkey. I let it be known that I had retired my role playing and, for me, my wild partying was over.
This of course made it particularly troubling while I was going out with Christina. The only relief I was getting was Mrs Palmer and her five daughters. At least until we got married, I naively thought. Ha. What a misguided fool I was.
...
It was decision time. From what I had managed to glimpse in the first few months of our marriage, Christina had a fantastic body. Long slim legs that I just knew would feel great wrapped around me, once she got going. A derrière that would grace any bikini model and, most interestingly, a pussy that looked amazing. Large, meaty lips and a mysteriously large clitoral hood that covered who knew what, since I had never managed to get a close up view.
The cotton nightgown was a permanent fixture during bed-time activities. Her breasts felt amazing on the few times I had managed to insert my hand all the way up under the gown. My only other breast touches were on top of the gown but I had many questions about her breasts also. Particularly her pointy nipples that so embarrassed her she would wear heavily padded bras.
We had never had what amounted to sex during daylight hours only at night. Also, only ever in our bed. Never in other rooms or on living room couches or whatever. My wife was still as much a mystery to me as practically before our wedding. But that was about to change.
Like I said, "Desperate times...".
...
I had plenty of down time during the day and I put it to good use devising a sequence of events that would test her merits.
It was easier to decide than I thought. There was no way I was going to force myself on my lovely Christina: to see those beautiful brown eyes look at me accusingly if I forced the issue regarding sexual parameters. Those that I had stupidly allowed to become the "norm" of our sex life. I loved her and still wanted to protect her from her fears.
I was in my own "catch 22" situation. If I let things continue as they were, nothing would change and I couldn't accept that. The only way to change would be to force it on her. If I forced it on her, she may either turn her love to hate and leave me. Or, she may accept part or all of the changes but our relationship may still die if she hated what I did. But what if she were to experience things, without her knowing it was me doing these things to her?
She could still hate what had happened and feel "unclean". But, she might come to me and explain what had happened and we could see a counsellor to help her get over the experience and at the same time counsel her on what she had been brought up to believe.
Yes, that seems to be a strong possibility, I thought.
