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As a minister's wife, I was to become adept at praying spontaneously out loud, but then it was brand new to me. I stumbled around, basically imitating what I remembered of Brand's prayer. But I added something, and it was sincerely felt: "Thank you, Lord, for giving me this man Brand to pray beside and to sleep with. By him I feel blessed on top, on bottom, and on all sides." Peculiar, perhaps, but I was to say that for many years, mostly with Brand kneeling beside me. I said it even when feelings between us were tense, because it was true in a much more permanent way than transitory feelings. It was one of the most comforting prayers I ever prayed.

And now it was time for us to get into bed and be man and wife. We got in, I in my ridiculous Jane Eyre nightwear and Brand still in his undershorts. Although it was at least midnight, my tiredness was entirely gone now. I had studied and admired this man for months, I knew he desired me as much as a man can desire a woman, the thought of his ejaculating in me had lit my desire like a torch, and now it (whatever IT was!) was finally going to happen!

We embraced and kissed, shyly, hesitantly. We didn't have yet any idea how to be intimate with each other. I was, as I said, very excited now, but nervous about acting too knowledgeable. Brand was already self-conscious about having no experience; I didn't want to make it worse. I wanted very much to be responsive to him without seeming what Americans call "dirty." I could feel Brand trembling a little, but I knew it was excitement. He was shaking like a volcano does when it's ready to erupt. To calm him, I took his face in my hands and put my head against his and, without thinking, started talking baby talk to him in Hungarian! Which worked! He snuggled into my arms for a few moments, still quivering. When he embraced me again, I could feel his erection through his shorts. I wanted to suggest he take them off, but refrained. Let him lead.

Well, inexperienced men always rush things. Not out of selfishness but because they don't yet know that there is an art to love. And, since they're nervous, they rush headlong to prove something. To get past the nervousness. So they think penetration is the whole play, when it really should be the third--or maybe even the fifth!--act.

Brand rolled around with me for a few minutes, both of us getting hotter and hotter. His body was as hard and comforting as I knew it would be. I had known he was strong, but now, for the first time surrounded by his muscles, his long arms and legs, his power seemed to flow into right me, making me even more excited. Surrendering to this man, for all his inexperience, was like being lifted by the ocean.

Brand seemed not even to notice my breasts, never even reached up under the smock to touch them. I learned later that no one had ever told him that breasts are sensitive to arousal. In fact, it seemed very few people had ever told him ANYTHING about what women like! There was no internet then to look this sort of thing up. And good Baptist lads don't use pornography anyway.

He started to struggle to pull his undershorts off. I wanted so much to see and stroke his penis, which I had the impression, from feeling it indistinctly through his shorts, was very big. I would have done more than handle him, Charity—I wanted so much to give him all the pleasure I could. But, on this night, I didn't dare do things like that. Brand had to possess me first. That was, in his mind, tonight, the big thing, the only thing.

He tried to take my bloomers off but didn't know where the buttons were, so I helped him. And I stripped my top off; I couldn't help that bit of presumption, I was so eager to feel Brand's skin all over mine, his hairy chest on my breasts. I would have been happy to just enjoy each other's nakedness for a bit, but he immediately rolled between my legs and pulled himself up on his elbows. He didn't yet know that a man has to guide himself with his hand, so he blindly prodded me at first. I wanted to reach down and help him, but that seemed too forward. Fortunately, I was already as wet as I needed to be. Eventually he hit the right spot and began to enter me.

I had been right; your grandfather was a big man, and his manhood was in proportion. His penis was as hard as oak. Although I wasn't virginal, I really had to wonder for a moment if I was going to be able to take him, he seemed to stretch me so much. I clutched him and groaned and gasped loudly. He froze and asked, "Am I hurting you?" "No, no," I almost shouted in his ear, "it's perfect, it's perfect! Just keep doing it!" As I said, I was very wet, so this Carnival-size phallus felt glorious as it slowly pressed deeper and deeper into me. I thought he would never stop going in!

I'm sure you've guessed what happened next. Brand began to thrust vigorously, gasping with excitement and exertion. I yelped mindlessly with pleasure; I had no idea a man's body could feel this good! He pumped for perhaps thirty or forty seconds. Then he suddenly stopped, arched his body higher, pressed himself grindingly hard up against my sex, and then his penis suddenly seemed to swell even bigger. It was like a balloon being inflated inside me! And then he ejaculated, so hard and long that I could feel each spurt of his semen inside me. This, as you perhaps know, is not something you get with all men, but I was to hunger for it constantly, that feeling of Brand's seed being planted in me. There is nothing in this world that ever made me feel more womanly.

Finished, he sprawled across me with a huge groan. Was I disappointed? Not really. True, I had just, for the first time in my life, actually begun having exciting sex, when it suddenly ended. (You may not believe this, Charity, but I had never, at that point, had an orgasm in my whole life. So I couldn't miss it that night. It was a pleasure I would soon discover!) But I knew I had caught, as American fishermen say, a whopper. Not only was Brand a big, powerful man with equipment to match: more importantly, sexual need was absolutely core to his being. Sex would always drive him hard. I intended to be in whatever direction he would turn, ready not only to receive him but to do everything I could to make him need even more. His knowledge and control would come with time.

Well, I've gone on for so long that I think I ought to stop. I've given you a lot of detail, I suppose, but then I have no idea what it is you want to write! Please write soon and tell me if you want to know more.