My Beautiful Bride

She instantly relaxed and finally let go of her inhibitions, giving herself up to me, relaxing and slipping into a trance at the first intimate touch of a man, having kept herself intact for so long.

The dress was pushed up further, frothing around her face, so that even if the room had not been dark, she could not see who was kneeling at her entrance, firm hands gripping her thighs, before long fingers traced ever upward until they finally found her dripping wet slit, being encouraged on their journey by Sharon's expectant gasps, her hips bucking as those fingers slipped between her labia, breaking her hymen, sending a flash of pain through her.

She was ready for this, her mother telling her to expect pain at first, but said that as long as she truly loved the man, she should ignore the pain and concentrate on the loving experience that would follow.

Her mother was right and, with the blood adding to her wetness, which in turn made the fingering of her even more exciting, she felt an overwhelming feeling of love accompanied by an urge to thrust her hips up toward the fingers probing her, returning the fucking sensation they were giving her, forcing the fingers deeper as a thumb found the little button that turned her on. Sharon was only just beginning to realise how much pleasure her clitoris was capable of giving her.

She felt incredibly turned on and excited as she was quickly brought to her first ever orgasm, something which, although they had recently discussed it, she was not ready for and which scared her at first. The feeling made her body shake uncontrollably as an intense pleasurable feeling coursed through her and she finally discovered what joy there was in having sex with a man.

As she continued to shudder with pleasure, the fingers continuing their probing, curling up, searching out a soft pad inside her, a part of her body she didn't know existed, but which now gave her a curious feeling that she initially didn't like.

But the fingers would not stop, despite Sharon's protests and her pleading to stop. They carried on, the feeling gradually becoming tolerable and then pleasurable, and she found herself loving that feeling. Despite the sensation that she wanted to pee, she found herself opening her legs wider, raising them until her toes pointed at the ceiling, shaking uncontrollably, her whimpers turning to little screams of pleasure.

My heart sank as she struggled her way through this story, her sobs finally stopping as I held her tight to show her I was supportive of her ordeal, anger building in me toward the man who took advantage of my wife all those years ago.

But what she told me and the way she told the tale, increasingly seemed geared to gain my sympathy and to explain her subsequent behaviour.

Throughout our married life, Sharon always found it difficult to have successive orgasms, making me stop after she had come, saying that going further was uncomfortable, making her want to pee, so I found her last comments difficult to believe. But, in between sobs, she went on to explain how, on that night, as the fingers continued to plunge in and out, she was excited beyond belief and, despite her protests to stop, she found herself eventually having another yet another orgasm, stronger than the first, wetting the sheets as she came in a squirting gush.

Throughout the experience, she said the room had been silent apart from her moans and screams of delight and she told me that, in the darkness, she was convinced that it was me fingering her, the ecstatic feelings heightening the love she felt for me.

She repeated this over and over - she thought it was me, she always thought it was me - until something made her realise that it wasn't.

After experiencing her first orgasms, she wanted to show her love for me and to tell me how much she loved me, so raised her arms up, wrapping them round my neck and pulling me down for a loving gentle kiss, whispering her love into my ear, telling me how her love for me felt incredibly intense at that moment.

As her lips met those she thought were mine, she felt a penis between her legs, marvelling at how big I was, incredibly long, thick and rigidly hard. The intense feelings overcoming her made her want that kiss so much and she kissed hard and deep as she prepared herself for the final act of consummation.

Her mouth opened and her hand clutched at what she assumed to be the back of my head to pull me in closer.

Instead of my long wavy hair, she touched tight wiry curls and the realisation suddenly dawned on her that the lips she was kissing were not mine. She recoiled in horror but, at the precise moment her lips released from that kiss, the penis slid into place and entered her.

Sharon gasped and froze at the sudden realisation that a strangers penis was entering her.

The unfamiliar feeling of her vagina opening with a warm wet penis sliding inside her confused her for a moment and that initial reaction stopped the penis going any further, as she lay there, silent for a few moments, frozen in fear.

It then slowly pulled back, as the stranger felt her fear, but Sharon could not stop her bodies reaction and her hips rose to follow it, her labia clinging on to that member tightly.

Indecision hung in the silence, before the penis slowly pressed back in, slowly but forcefully, triggering a sensation that she said she could feel to this day as it gradually penetrated her fully.

The weight of this strange man pinned her to the bed and she couldn't move, shocked into silence and frozen with fear, despite her bodies opposite reaction, her hips moving upward to imbed the new object within.

The thought quickly occurred to her that, in the last few seconds, she had just lost her virginity to a man she didn't know and couldn't even see, but as the penis pulled back sightly and then pushed steadily back in, assisted by her involuntary hip movement and lubricated by the wetness of her expectation, she recalled those orgasms. As she did, the fear was replaced by confusion and she mentally submitted to the non-consensual impregnation.

After that, the penis slid effortlessly in, repeating it's routine again and again, each stroke probing for and eventually touching her innermost depths.

Her confusion and fear had initially turned to resignation at what was happening as wild thoughts raced through her mind. This was all her fault she said to herself, realising that she had started out eagerly accepting this man's touch, encouraging him by responding and kissing him. She had enjoyed what he had done to her, the excitement bringing joy, even feelings of love to her, along with the most fantastic new orgasmic sensations.

As these thoughts eased her fear and repugnance, they were being replaced by pleasure. She was very aware that the feeling of his penis inside her was a good one and she began to enjoy having sex, even though it was with a stranger, something she would normally have found horrific. She found her legs wanting to open wide and high, allowing him to fuck her more deeply. That word flashed into her mind as he continued, exciting her in her ever increasing recklessness. It was a word she never used, but now revelled in it's sound.

"He's fucking me", she thought, "We're fucking each other, we're not making love, and Oh how I love the feeling!".

This was not what she had expected, not what she had wanted, but she was delirious with pleasure, her legs pointing upwards again, shuddering and shaking with intense pleasure until her heels fell off, clattering to the floor her toes pointing skyward with pleasure.

The unseen man on top of her continued to silently and rhythmically fuck her, his hands gripping her slim body, pushing her dress up to feel the contrast between her slim waist and wide hips, his pace picking up as his breathing got more rapid. Sharon's breathing was also ragged and erratic as she felt another orgasm building. This orgasm was different to the first one's though, it was building more slowly and was being triggered, not by something rubbing her clitoris, but by the large head of this man's penis rubbing against the walls of her vagina. The feeling became more and more intense and her whole being concentrated solely on the feeling of his penis inside her.

Her hands circled the man's body, pulling him closer, her legs curling behind him, not wanting him to stop or pull out. She decided that sex was the best thing she had ever experienced and now spoke for the first time, begging him not to stop, her fingernails digging hard into his backside, trying to pull him in deeper with every stroke, eventually feeling wetness on her fingers as her fingernails drew blood.

"As you shed blood, so shall yours be shed." She thought to herself as she revelled in the demonic thoughts now going through her mind.

Was that a biblical quote? She didn't care, it just seemed right at that moment, as the pain caused by her nails seemed to make her buck go faster and grunt in her ear.

Sharon stopped her tale then, casting her face down, saying that she knew what was going to happen next, but had no power to stop it.

I took that as an admission that she expected, maybe even wanted, this strange man to ejaculate into her, something she had not wanted me to do that night, insisting that I put on a condom before we could make love.

That was the point where I physically pushed her away.

As she fell back onto the bed and went on with her story, I noticed that her chest was flushed, which I presumed to be from crying, but as she fell back, her legs parted, revealing a large wet patch where she had sat on the bed.

My mind went back to a similar wet patch on the chair at our wedding, a sign that she was sexually aroused.

I couldn't believe it, but her recollection of that night, something she had started out telling me was not of her asking, was making her wet with excitement, or passion, or maybe even for the love of that unseen man!

I saw Sharon in a different light now, as she continued to tell the sordid tale of how she had sex with a stranger on our honeymoon night, thirty years before, trying to twist the tale to make me believe she was thinking of me, as a strange man made love to her.

She clearly remembered that night in every detail, describing it in a way that seemed like a tale from the night before. Thirty years had gone by but she still recalled the intensity of feeling that she felt for that man, a displaced love for somebody she did not know and could not see, but who was making love to her like I never had, judging by her lurid description.

She was laying back with eyes closed now, the tears gone as she finally shed the guilt held for thirty years, joyfully recounting how he carried on as she rode from one orgasm to another, rolling her over to take her from behind, pulling her onto his lap before standing up with her arms wrapped round his neck, held up by his strong arms and rigid cock as he bounced her up and down, her screams filling the room, before he could hold out no longer and erupted violently into her, ramming her body against the wall, banging her head in the darkness, making her dizzy as his seed entered her in a never ending stream that she could feel flooding her as she twitched in semi-conscious orgasmic delight, knowing that her cervix was sucking his seed deep inside her.

Sharon was clearly enjoying her recollection now, all tears and shame gone as she excitedly recalled what happened next, her hand going between her legs to hide her increasing wetness, endlessly repeating how good it felt as he lay back on the bed, feeling for her hand in the darkness to pull her back toward him, telling her to to mount him, recalling how her hand trembled as she sat astride him, feeling between her legs to take his girth gently in her hand, lovingly placing it back into her sore entrance, his dripping semen allowing it to effortlessly slide back into her, making her eyes roll back in her head with ecstasy.

My mind was numb at this stage, as our lives unravelled with every word as she continued to dig the knife deeper by explaining how she learnt so much about sex from that man.

My wife had lived a lifetime of deceit and I felt sick as she finally revealed the identity of the stranger in that room.

After about an hour, she said, he got up and reset the circuit breakers, lighting the room again, before returning to her bed until he heard an ambulance pull up on the gravel drive.

"It was Leon", she said, "the limousine driver".

Vanessa had apparently asked him to reset the power in the honeymoon suite but to take his time, allowing her to flirt with me, asking me to join her in her personal apartment on the second floor, using the excuse that there was a problem with the hotel payment.

As I sat in her bedroom, Leon had his fingers inside my wife, taking her virginity, inseminating her and giving her the incredible highs that I should have done. All this, while I was perusing paperwork, wondering why Sharon's payments hadn't gone through.

While I worried about being thrown out, Vanesssa, this sexy older woman, was stripping off her clothes in her dressing room, finally appearing dressed only in a black basque, her long legs and large bulbous breasts apparently making my eyes pop out.

Sadly, I had no memory of this, Sharon going on to tell me that Leon described how I backed away, tripped and fell backwards down the stairs in her apartment, my head striking the marble stairs several times on the way down.

I couldn't stop thinking it over and over. Whilst I was descending the stairs, Leon was getting out of the lift, then peering through the door of our suite, lusting after my bride, getting erect as he saw her dress pulled up, seeing her long slim legs clad in white stockings, her pink virginal pussy staring back in anticipation.

Sharon said that Leon assumed that she was keen on him, following her flirting with him in the bar, so had crept in and taken advantage of my bride, exciting her with his expert fingers before taking her virginity without her consent.

Not that he saw it that way and nor did I now.

From his perspective, he was merely doing what he regularly did, taking advantage of a white woman's desire for black cock. He had read enough dirty books to think that most white women secretly wanted to fuck a black man, so he regularly tried it on with any that came on to him.

But Sharon was not expecting him to come into that room and take advantage of her. If you believed her story, she thought it was her new husband exciting and arousing her, only going on with the deed when she realised it was not me, because she was confused and fearful, eventually getting carried away with the intense feelings that he was giving her, feelings she had been anticipating all day.

That was how Sharon told the tale, but I now felt that she had played her part. By her own admission, she found enjoyment as he defiled her and then knowingly enjoying her first sexual experience with someone other than her husband, an experience which was so overwhelming that every tingle and orgasm was burned into her memory. There is no doubt in my mind, she knew and wanted him to have sex with her that night, and kept her dirty secret for thirty years.

Sharon was looking relieved now, having finally offloaded the secret she had previously shared with nobody, but she had given no concern for my feelings.

Her tale ended by filling the holes in my memory of that night, finally revealing how I had really ended up in hospital.

What she had not told me was what she was doing whilst I lay in a hospital bed. I pressed her on this and she suddenly started crying again.

She told me that I was actually in hospital for four days and five nights.

I only remembered two nights, but felt so ill afterward that I could have been there for a month, suffering frequent memory lapses for weeks afterward.

Sharon's eyes cast downward as she went on to tell me how the hotel had waived all charges, allowing her to stay there until I was discharged. She was given access to all the hotel services, including the limousine, to allow her to travel back and forth to the hospital. As Leon was the sole driver, it didn't take much to realise what happened during those four days.

The hotel had been so good to her she said, particularly Leon and Vanessa, that she felt duty bound to spend some time with them when they asked her to join them for dinner that first night. Afterwards, having plied her with wine, Leon showed her back to the room and they had sex again, this time, with Sharon's agreement.

My mind fumed as I instantly thought that it was probably at her insistence, rather than her agreement, given the way she revelled in the telling of this sordid tale.

She visited me every day she said, but only stayed for an hour or so, as I was semi conscious most of the time. She then confessed to spending more time with Leon, having sex in the back of the limo, in his apartment as well as in her hotel room. Sharon told the tale like they were the best days of her life, but didn't once make eye contact with me and gave no more lurid details of their sexual romps only insisting that she looked on it as her sexual education, a sexual release, after so many barren years, feeling like she was out of control, her battered mind unable to deny his advances.

It sounded like she felt it was my fault for not being there when she needed me, as if it was my fault that I was unconscious in a hospital bed so, having licence to have sex now that she was married, she had to fuck somebody else to get some release.

It suddenly dawned on me that she hadn't mentioned him wearing a condom during her tales of debauchery, seemingly willing to take the risk with him, but not me, as we only realised some years later that she could not bear children.

Sharon shed more tears as she recounted how she found the feeling of him coming in her exciting, it all being down to her confused state of mind at the time and, after that first time, he told her that he had a vasectomy years before, so she was safe.

Her fear of venereal disease made her insist on me wearing a condom, despite her being on birth control for several years, something she never told me. She added that she was right to be fearful, as she must have contracted Chlamydia during that week, but with only slight symptoms which she put down to sexual exertion, resulting in her later infertility. She apparently only discovered the disease when we finally sought advice on conceiving a child.

So, having discovered that my bride had lost her virginity to a stranger on my wedding night, contracting a disease that ended our hopes of having children and keeping it secret ever since, our anniversary holiday was clearly over, as was our sham marriage.

I booked myself into a separate room immediately, before calling round for a flight back home.

With no direct flights available at a cost I could afford, I booked a tortuous flight with three stops, scheduled to depart in three days time.

Those three days were spent in misery, sightseeing and getting drunk in local bars, turning round to walk in the other direction whenever I spotted Sharon by the pool, usually talking to a local young guy who looked after the pool. He would inevitably end up sitting by her side, consoling her as she burst into tears once more.

Talking to the barman one day, I asked about the young man who looked after the pool.

"He's a bit strange, a devout Christian. He likes to pray a lot." the man said.

"He always wears a large crucifix away from work, they ask him to take it off here, but he puts it back on as soon as he's finished work. He spends most of his spare time doing good deeds for the church, so he's a good man.".

That explained his interest in Sharon, as I have found that there is no greater good deed for a Christian man than saving a fallen woman.