Last Time, First Time

But eventually, my knees and my jaw began to ache. Slowly, carefully, I stood, turned to face away from my husband, bent forward, and slowly removed my final garment. The g-string was still in midair, being tossed aside, when I felt Patrick's hand upon my hip, pulling me back toward him. Moments later, he impaled me elsewhere, my back flush against his chest as his hands gently hefted and manipulated my breasts.

I thought back for a moment on the previous night, our last night together as boyfriend and girlfriend. That had been a thrilling, heart-pounding experience, a royal tussle between ferocious felines in heat, with the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. One night later, while my body still bore the markings of that rough, fulfilling experience, the very same man was buried deep inside me again, his lips and his hands romancing my body with the reverence due to an exotic goddess of legend.

The scent of passion tangibly filled the air as the aura of love surrounded us both. I gave myself willingly and fully to my newlywed husband, and was rewarded with a very lengthy foreplay while I sat upon his lap, his hands slowly building my passion and then allowing me to simmer before starting anew. My body's natural reactions – squirming in his lap, repeatedly fluttering around his invading manhood, occasionally bouncing upon him – ensured his delight as well without causing him to reach the summit of pleasure, lengthening our intimacy.

"My sweet, sweet wife," Patrick whispered, causing my passion and my heart to swell yet again. His arms wrapped around me securely, protectively, lovingly, and something about this particular moment brought tears to my eyes as I caressed his strong arms.

After a few moments, I extricated myself from my husband's arms and stood, turning around and straddling him once more, this time slipping his swollen phallus back inside me where it belonged. Even as I continued to cry for no apparent reason, I began to move up and down upon him. Our lips sought each other and joined, mimicking the action taking place below our waists.

My tears began to fall with greater speed, and my body matched their pace. Patrick and I clutched each other tightly, our bodies colliding, our hearts fusing together, our voices joining in an operatic duet. Our passion grew exponentially, like a hurricane gathering strength from warmer waters and increasing its fury. Above the sound of our song and the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears, I could just barely hear the protest of the sofa beneath us. I was just barely aware of the sweat upon me.

An internal explosion obliterated my senses, my head snapping backward as I cried out and certainly flinging my tears in all directions. I was only vaguely aware of my husband's own throaty growl just before he erupted inside me. And when the passionate earthquake stilled at last, I was collapsed against my husband as he caressed and comforted me in the afterglow of such an intense joining of two souls.

"My dearest husband," I softly whispered, my weary voice a little hoarse. And then I laughed softly, for after the years of dreaming and planning, we were at last husband and wife. We had just made love for the first time as a "legal" couple, and it definitely would not be the last.