Just Married

When my soon-to-be husband told me he wasn't expecting sex on our wedding night, I just smiled. I knew he was trying to be sweet and caring, to show me that he's marrying me because he loves me and not just so he can finally get to have sex with me. But I also knew that no matter how tired I was from the excitement of the wedding day, I'd be desperate to rip his clothes off the moment the door to our hotel room closed.

We both come from a conservative background where sex before marriage is absolutely forbidden. We've been dating since we were nineteen, which is almost six years now, and in that entire time we've had to restrain our desire to jump on each other.

Of course, it's not like we've always stuck to the letter of the rules. I've jerked him off a handful of times, always surreptitiously. Once in the front of his car, parked down a deserted track. Once in my parents' basement when we were supposed to be watching a movie. He believed that, when the sexual frustration got too much for him, it was a better option than us giving in and having sex. He never touched me in return, except for the occasional squeeze of my breasts. "Men need release," he explained to me. "Women don't. This is the best way to make sure we don't go too far."

My panties were always slick and my cunt throbbing by the time we were done. When I did dare to ask about getting some pleasure for myself, he laughed and reminded me that I didn't need it.

Sometimes, even just kissing him was enough to get me going. When I squirmed uncomfortably, he reminded me how important purity was and said I'd just have to wait.

Masturbation isn't allowed either, especially for women. Some nights, the throbbing need between my legs got so intense that all I could do was writhe, try to breathe deeply, and pray for the strength to resist. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Even simple things like washing myself down there left me with my legs trembling, groaning with longing when I had to take the shower head away. When I nervously asked friends for advice, they all said the same: be strong and wait until you're married.

And how here we are, me and my new husband. In our honeymoon suite, alone together at long last. I know virgin brides are supposed to be nervous, but I'm not. I hope my eagerness - my desperation - won't put him off. He's stripped me down to my bridal lingerie and laid me out on the big bed, and he's taking his time exploring every inch of my body. When he takes my nipple into this mouth and sucks, I think I will pass out from pleasure. When he strokes my inner thighs, I cannot help moaning and arching my body towards him.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, his fingers dancing along the lacy edge of my white panties. I can only nod, breathless. Trying to control my sexual desires for so long means that giving voice to them now seems impossible. I think I will die if he doesn't touch me. The little nub, the center of all my need, throbs. I can feel that I am drenching my panties.

At last, at long last, he flutters his fingers along my secret place on top of my panties. It feels so good that I cannot help letting out a gasp of joy.

He slips his hand into my panties. It's the first time anyone but me has ever touched that part of my body. He explores me with his fingers, sliding them along my soaking folds and finally coming to rest on that most needy place.

"Now," he says. His voice is suddenly stern, like a schoolmaster. "I want you to be very honest with me. Were you really a good girl the whole time we were dating?"

I nod my head frantically.

"You never gave in and played with this aching slit?" he asks.

I shake my head this time. I decide not to tell him about the times I let the shower work its magic for a moment longer than necessary, or the times I squirmed against my chair just to get a bit of friction on my pussy. It was never more than a few seconds, and I never let myself go too far. And on all those sleepless, horny nights, I never reached down and rubbed myself to the relief I so longed for.

He tickles my sex with tantalizing, torturous gentleness. I need him to do more, to rub and play with that pleasure button. I thrust my hips upwards, trying to get the friction I need.

"Stop that," he says. Fuck. Where has this suddenly dominant side of my husband come from? And why does it make me throb and drip even more? "Let's get these off," he says, tugging my panties down and then off.

When I'm fully naked, he returns his attention to my soaked cunt. He strokes my outer lips and then begins rubbing small circles over my engorged clitoris, varying the speed and the pressure, experimenting to see what makes me react the most. Tuning me like an instrument. I must be making a shameful, wanton display of myself, moaning and writhing and gasping. I can't believe how good it feels, to have something finally touch that desperate place after needing it so badly for so long. Yes, yes, yes... I don't know exactly what's happening to me, but I suppose this must be the beginnings of the mythical orgasm I've heard my married friends talk about.

But just when I'm dangling over the precipice of the release I've longed for forever, the blissful pleasure suddenly stops. I let out a cry of frustration, not understanding why he's yanked it away just at the point I need it most.

"That's enough of that," he says. When his eyes meet mine, there is something devilish in them, something I've never seen before.

"Please," I whimper, my pussy crying out for just a little bit more.

"Did you need something?" he asks, in a tone that I think is mocking me but I'm not quite sure. He runs his fingers across my stomach and then up and down the insides of my splayed legs.

"I was... I don't know but it felt..." I am struggling to form coherent words. "I need more," I say instead.

He laughs. "Oh, sweetheart. You thought you'd finally get relief for that throbbing clit just because we're married now?"

"Isn't that what you always said?"

"No. I said I could touch it once we were married. I can, and I have, and I will do so a lot more. I never said anything about letting you get off."

I hear myself panting and whimpering, pathetic noises of desperation and need. "I don't understand."

"I've loved seeing you so horny all these years," he explains. "The way you'd do anything I wanted you to do. The way you'd squirm when we kissed. You were trying so hard to be good but occasionally you'd break down and beg me to touch you. It was so fucking sexy. I don't see any reason I should lose that now." He slides his hand back down between my legs and toys with me gently. My hips move of their own accord, thrusting myself shamelessly against his fingers.

"Keep still," he orders. I try to stop moving, focusing on keeping my hips obediently pinned to the bed. My orgasm is building again and, as though he can sense it, he slows his fingering of my clit right down, dragging out the torture for as long as possible. I'm on the knife edge when he pulls his hand away again. How can he tell just how close I am and know exactly when to stop?

I'm still panting and whimpering, squirming slightly in my need, when he kisses my lips. "Time for sleep," he says.

I let out a whine. "Oh, god, please," I gasp. "I really need it." It seems like the cruellest thing to show me a taste of the pleasures he can give me, and then take it away before I can satisfied.

"Ssshhh, it's okay, darling," he says. "You told me yourself that you managed to control yourself while we were waiting to get married, so you can do it for a bit longer now. I'll let you have a nice climax eventually, just so you can see what you're missing, but I think it's safe to say we'll be keeping you denied a lot of the time."

"But..."

"You promised to obey me. Do you take that vow seriously?"

"Of course I do."

"Then that means taking it seriously in this aspect of our life together, too. I know what you need, what that needy little hole between your legs needs. And it doesn't need to cum just yet." He kissed my forehead. "Now let's go to sleep. It's been a long day."

"Aren't you going to make love to me?" I ask in surprise. Despite all the wonderful pleasures and torments he's introduced me to, he has not made any attempt to enter me.

He laughs a gentle laugh. "I just did, darling. There's more to making love than just fucking, you know. But if you want to know if I'm going to fuck you, then yes. Tomorrow."