The Cop on My Honeymoon

When Scott and I got married, I was an eighteen year-old college freshman and he was a twenty-two year-old upperclassman. We'd been dating for four years, and had been sexually active since almost the beginning. Perverts or not, we were also silly on romance, and we had the clever idea of cutting ourselves off for the entire month leading up to the wedding. No sex. No masturbation. A little casual affection, but nothing heavy. Not with each other, by ourselves, or with anyone else.

It was hell. It had been a long time since either of us had gone a day without an orgasm. By the end of the month we were restless in our own skin. Edgy. Fit to be tied. We needed release.

But we were also stubborn and committed to allowing a full sex life to be something we enjoyed in our marriage, not something that ruled our marriage. And so we resisted. We held out. We even lasted through the reception.

We almost didn't make it past changing clothes to leave.

I'm 5'9", dark-haired and dark-eyed, with dimples and a flash of mischief in my eyes. I'm thin, but not frail, and through most of junior high and high school I had been an athlete so I was in good shape. Scott, too, had been a school athlete and was on our college baseball team. He was no body builder, but he was strong and there was little wasted room on his frame. His dark hair was simply buzz-cut, but the look gave his easy smile and shining blue eyes a bit of an edge. When I was out of my wedding dress and he was out of his tux, there was a moment in which we nearly pounced on one another.

But we didn't.

We kept to our pledge. The hotel. We would wait for the hotel.

Scott changed into athletic clothes that hung well on his frame and were smooth to the touch. I pulled on a knit top and a denim jumper. He wore no boxers. I wore no bra, but did pull on a pair of panties that were tie-die with a daisy over the sweet spot.

A rented limo took us to the airport, and a small plan took us to Chicago. We could hardly look at each other the entire time, lest we be too strongly tempted. Our held hands as if our lives depended on it, though, fingers intertwined so tightly I left nail-marks on the back of his hand.

A taxi to the hotel, and Scott was caressing my back. I was caressing his leg. We were getting close. It was okay to warm up. Just a little.

When we checked in, his hand was all over my ass. Mine was clutching at his powerful upper arm.

Then the elevator. It wasn't the room yet. No sex. Nothing that would be considered fooling around. But, god, what a kiss. We definitely didn't breathe from the ground floor to the fourteenth, even with several stops, and I'm not sure how, but I remember moving along the wall to our room in a such a way as we didn't break the kiss until it was time to open the door. My tongue stud clacked against his teeth so many times I was afraid I would chip something.

He didn't care.

I didn't care.

All we we cared about was the moment in the room when the door shut, and Scott threw me onto the bed. He was on top of me in no time. My legs were spread already, and welcomed him between him. Dry-humping against my panties after a month of no sex got him pretty hard pretty quickly. We kissed as if we were devouring our first desert in years. His hands pawed my breasts through my clothes. My fingers were sunk in the tight, firm muscles of his ass.

I pulled his shirt off of his hand, and scraped my teeth along to his chest. I kissed and nibbled ever muscled inch, even toying with his nipples. That drove him crazy, so I flicked them with my tongue, bit gently on them, sucked a little.

"Damn, love," Scott panted. He got up on his knees and used all his power to pulled my legs over his shoulders, so my panties were in his face and my head planted in the bed. He kissed the daisy. Then he sucked on the daisy. Then he licked and chewed the rest of my panties. When I cried for more, he sucked on my thighs with enough force to leave red marks.

I growled in sweet, tortured frustration and squeezed my legs on my new husband's head, levering him to his side on the bed. I then yanked his pants off, exposing his hardon. Greedily, I took him into my mouth, sliding him all the way into my throat, where I used the muscled my my throat itself to squeeze in pulses against him as I sucked.

Scott grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my mouth up to his. As we kissed again, he helped me out of my jumper and top. When I was down to just my panties, he rolled me onto all fours and pulled my panties down just enough to expose my entrance to him. Grabbing my hips roughly, he plowed he hard. Every thrust jarred my body. I felt it through my spine. The relentless pounding gave me a headache.

But I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to keep going. And I begged him to.

He felt himself getting close, and flipped me over onto my back. He squeezed my tits and twisted my nipples as he fucked me. My head already hurt from the ferocity of the fuck, but now every time his cock slammed into me, it rammed my head into the headboard.

I clawed at his arms, whimpering and whining in desperate need of release as his cock hammered at my g-spot.

When I came, I screamed louder than I think I ever had before. I scratched his arms, and demanded he make me cum again. He did, and I screamed just a little quieter but more roughly.

And that time, as my body twitched and trembled, Scott came, too, burying his seed deep inside me.

When he pulled out he wiped his cock clean on my freshly shaved mound and then curled up beside me.

"Worth the wait?" I asked when I finally found words.

"Worth the wait," he confirmed, still catching his breath. "Worth the wait?"

"Worth the wait."

We kissed tenderly as our bodies wrapped up. We still had a lot of sexual energy to spend. "Hi," I said, giggling into his ear. "How are you, my husband?"

"I'm good," he laughed. "How are you, my wife?"

"Very good."

Our bodies hadn't forgotten one another, but as we kissed and caressed it was like they were becoming reacquainted, as old friends. Old friends with benefits.

Still, there was something hesitant in Scott. I asked him about it. "Is everything okay?"

"Just thinking," he said.

"About?"

"Us."

"That's a good think to think about on our wedding night."

He agreed but I could tell there was something more to it.

I pressed a little. "What's wrong?"

"It just hit me," he said, "how things are going to change now that we're married."

"What do you mean?"

"With our sex life. It's been so wild and amazing."

"Oh, hold on now," I said teasingly. "You just wait."

I slipped out of bed and walked, naked to the window, to close the curtains I realized had been open the entire time. This darkened the room, and I pulled a couple candles out of my bag and lit them at the bedside.

Scott knew better than to interrupt or interrogate me when I was in action. It worked out much better in every way if he just let me do my thing.

The sweat on our bodies glowed and shimmered in the candle light. His eyes shone. Mine, I noticed in the mirror above the headboard, sparkled.

I stood up on the bed, straddling my husband's body. I gazed at my pussy, red from brutal use and smeared with cum. I rubbed the cum around and watched. I was always fascinated by my own sexuality. "I think," I said, "if I had an out of body experience right now, I would love to eat my own pussy. Is that weird?"

Scott was staring up at me, his gaze moving between that same pussy and my dreamy eyes. "It's weird as hell," he told me. "But it's also hot as hell."

I used two fingers from my left hand to hold my cunt open and slid a finger from my right hand up inside. I always loved the sight of one of my own fingers disappearing inside my body. It was a sexual thrill I'd never quite understood about myself, but I accepted it anyway.

Scott was still staring at me. He was gently stroking his hardon. I smiled and crouched down over him, taking his hands and tucking them underneath him. "No touchy touchy," I teased.

I was almost never aggressive, but sometimes I did take a lead. Now was one of those times. I made eye contact with my new husband and began licking my hands, tasting his cum and my own juices. When they were shiny with my own spit, I ran those hands over Scott, literally from head to toe and back again.

Smiling, I put my mouth a bare centimeter from the hot shaft his manhood and asked, with soft puffs of air, "Do you want to cum again, love?"

Scott used his hips to guide his cock against my mouth and then rub it around my face. I smiled and purred for him a little. I even flickered my tongue along it for just a moment before quietly suggesting he should be more patient.

With steady, easy thrusts he stroked his cock up and down along my cheek. Up and down. Up and down. We were both mesmerized by the moment, but once I felt a trickle of precum, I moved to lay beside him.

"No more moving," I scolded him. "Not until I say so."

Scott smiled as he looked into my eyes. "You've got it."

Giggling with evil intent, I kissed my way slowly around his face with gentle pecks, pressing my soft, moist lips against his skin. "I'm going to give you a tongue bath," I told him, running my tongue along the outside of his lips. "I am going to lick every inch of your body." I ran the tip of my tongue up his nose. "Sometimes I might be delicate." I painstakingly caressed his right ear with my tongue, exploring every little fold and curve. "Sometimes I might be obscene." I slathered my tongue all over his face, like a soft, fleshy sponge bathing him in saliva. I stretched over his body, my nipples brushing against his chest, and licked around his other ear. "But either way I'm not going to miss a spot."

I had wanted to do this anyway, but now that I knew my beloved was worried about marriage changing our sex life, I wanted it even more. He needed to believe in me, to believe in us. I ached for him to feel assured.

Naked in the candle light, glowing with my own sexual arousal, I slowly, deliberately, licked my way down Scott's right arm. Then back up. Down and up and it glistened in the flickering light. And then I lavished his with slobbery tongue lashed, sucking on each finger for just a moment, like a hard little cock.

I drew a trail over his shoulders with my tongue and gave his left arm the same treatment. By the time I had wet down that pinky, Scott was breathing hard, tensing with desire.

I straddled his waist in order to lick around his throat and shoulders and chest. I giggled as his nipples hardened, and then I scooted lower, licking my way down his abdomen. My long, dark hair trailed and tickled as I moved. I swirled my tongue around his belly button, and when his entire upper body was shining with my spit, I teased his cock with a brush of my hair and then rolled him over onto his bell so that I could lick my way down his spine and then bathe his entire back.

I purred as I licked around his firm, athletic ass cheeks, and took the time to make sure I gave each one a large, purple hickey. I allowed my tongue to dance around the outside of his asshole and then drew it down to his prostate, pulling off before I reached his balls.

I then rolled him back over and, crouched between his legs, I have then then the same treatment as his arms. I lefts the right, licking my way from hip to ankle, then back. Over and over again, until he was well bathed. Scott gasped with faint hope every time my mouth drew near his manhood. But I did not allow it to touch him there. When the leg was coated in saliva, I gave his his foot a noisy, obscene lashing, and then sucked in his toes, allowing my tongue to dance and play between them as I sucked.

Scott groaned and begged for me to hurry up.

That, of course, meant the other leg went even more slowly. Painfully slow for both of us as my soft, wet tongue tired of its slippery dance, and the rest of my body ached for its own slippery dance. My husband's need showed itself in tense muscles, steaming hot skin, and a constant low hum from deep inside his throat.

When at last, my wet lips wrapped around his balls, that was literally all he could take and my husband came into my hair, crying out like a girl losing her virginity.

He knew he wasn't ready to penetrate with his cock again soon, but he knew I needed to get off quick and hard at this point. I watched as he blew out of the candles and pulled it out of its stand. In the dim, shadowy light I watched then as my husband rolled me onto my back and plunged the base of the candle into my wet pussy. The faster he fucked me with the candle, the more I thrashed on the mattress. As my inner muscles clenched the candle and my wetness trickled onto the top of my thighs, Scott bent in and bit and sucked at this very thighs. There was no slowing down as the candle pounding my g-spot.

My walls swelled and throbbed and just as I was afraid they would break the candle in the half inside my own vault, I spasmed and every muscle in my body suddenly relaxed.

Panting, flush, and aching from head to toe, I said, "And you're worried about sex life."

Scott pulled me into his arms and kissed my neck. "That's not quite what I mean," he explained. "It's just that we're adults now, you know? Stable. Committed. Grown up. No more you coming home and telling me about the girl whose boobs you played with during a movie. No more sucking your tongue into my mouth and finding it covered in another man's sperm. No more watching you jump some guy in the backseat of our car parked in front of our house."

I just giggled and folding myself more closely into his embrace.

We had sex again that night, and again the next morning. We both drifted asleep after the morning sex, but I've always been a high metabolism kind of girl, and have never been able to take more than a cat nap. Scott was still deep asleep when I woke, so I used the opportunity to sleep out of bed into to a pair of black lace panties. I looked down. I could see my shaved pussy, swollen and pink with use, oozing with my husband's cum. It was another of those times I wished I could taste myself.

That being impossible, I instead settled for getting dressed. I put on a black lace bra to match my panties, and a black silk halter top. Add to that, a skin-tight gray skirt and a pair of black heels and I was set. Dressed like that and smelling of sex and Clinique Happy, I made my way to the hotel bar.

The noon crowd was small and quiet. That didn't mean there was any shortage of attention for a girl who looked like I did, but it did mean that less of the attention was from a desirable source. After a lot of cheap looks and cheaper pick-up lines, I was finally approached by a tall man with big shoulders and a flat stomach. His face was boyish, roughened up by a two-day scruff and an all-coffee diet. His hair was a simple, eight-dollar cut that suited his Old Spice. The gray suit he wore was decidedly off-the-rack, but it was also the fanciest outfit in here other than mine. His shoes lacked polish and had rubber soles.

I knew how I looked and smelled. I turned to him and smiled. "I'm not selling anything, officer."

He smiled. There was a dimple on his right cheek. "Too bad, because I'm not on duty."

"Sure you're not," I laughed.

"I'm not," he promised, raising his hands. "Just got off and need to . . . "

"Get off?"

"Yeah," he said with his own laugh. It was deep, rough, short. If a laugh can be manly, that one was. "Just need to unwind, that's all."

I felt a few butterflies stirring in my belly as I looked him up and down. He was in incredible shape. "And how do you like to unwind?"

I felt even more butterflies as he looked me up and down. He liked what he saw. There was no faking that. "Giving a pretty girl a bath in hot, steamy water is always a good start."

The butterflied ramped it up. "And for a good finish?"

He eyed my hips. "It's too bad you're not selling," he said. "Because then you'd find out."

My stomach tied itself in knots and my heart raced. I had learned at a young age that a pretty girl with a cute face can get away with saying a lot of shocking things if she's just willing to be at ease and be herself. But it still took courage. And it still made my heart pound. I grabbed his wrist gently and lay his hand on my hip. "I said I'm not selling anything, officer." I turned and began to walk away from him, exaggerating my natural sway. "I didn't say I wasn't giving something away."

It doesn't matter how confident or experienced a girl is. It's always rewarding to have someone you have your eye on you follow you when you want them to. And he did just that, all the way to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator door was shut, I pulled him into a violent kiss. I bit his lip. I bit his tongue. I sucked and slobbered on his tongue so crudely that both of our saliva dribbled down on my face. We stopped at the door to my honey moon sweet and kissed with the same rough abandon. I grabbed his wrist again, more firmly this time, and pulled his hand up my skirt. He responded by eagerly rubbing and squeezing me, feeling the cum and wetness and the softness of my pussy through the lace of my panties.

"There's something I need to tell you," I panted through our kissing.

"You really are a prostitute?" he guessed. "Cause right now I'm willing to pay for this."

I groaned, taking it as a compliment in my heat. "No, but I am married."

"I don't give a fuck," he muttered, pressing me against the door and pinning my arms above my head as he kissed my throat so violently he left a hickey.

"And my husband's in the room," I managed to say as he continued to cover my throat in hickeys.

"Fuck what?"

"He won't join us. He won't watch us. He may listen. But that's his business. This is all about you and me, baby."

"Fucking slut," he said, and there was admiration in his voice. He dropped to his knees and lifted my skirt in the middle of the hallway. Eagerly, he bent in and begin lapping, licking, and sucking at my pussy through my panties. My ass pressed against the door. I was grinding against his face. "God damn, your husband's cum is like sugar on a delicious desert," he grunted.

I groaned and pulled my panties aside to give direct access to me, not caring who might walk by.

The cop ran his tongue up my slit and then stabbed two fingers into my slit like a masculine knife.

I threw my head back and slammed my hands back against the door, clawing at its polished surface. His fingers didn't stop or slow down. His both found my clit. The back of my head repeatedly found the door. My fingers curled up tightly, biting into my own flesh. I lifted one tense leg and curled it around the cop's neck.

And there, in the hallway outside my honeymoon suite, the off-duty police officer made me cum so hard I had to bit my lip until it bed in order to stop from screaming. When my muscles relaxed, there was still fire in my eyes. The cop stood and motioned at the door.

"I think we need that bath now."

I opened the door and practically dragged him in.

Scott was on the bed, awake, his eyes wide. I smiled at him as I stripped down to my panties and bra. The cop shrugged off his suit jacket and gave a polite nod to my husband. "How's it going, buddy?"

My husband didn't say thing. I giggled and pulled my lover to the bathroom. He swatted my ass playfully as he followed. "Damn, girl, if you were mine, I'd keep you all to myself."

I was nuzzling his pants as he closed the door and I said, "And that's why I'm not yours."

We were neither quiet nor discrete. We were giggling and laughing as we kissed and groped our way through undressing one another. Several times we slammed against the wall or the door in a moment of particular heat.

When finally naked, I perched on the edge of the bathtub and began filling it with hot, sudsy water. The cop just stared at me, stroking himself. His cock was a lot like Scott's but his balls were a little larger. It was a good look for him.