I expect him to carry me in and set me on the bed – a move I have seen dozens times in romantic movies and books – But after kicking open the slab of oak standing between us and our desires, he sets me down just within. “Well, if he’s not going to take the initiative”… Even as the heavy door swings fully ajar, revealing the cabin’s cozy depths, I grab his hand and pull him into the room.
Tossing the duffel bag over next to the king sized bed, I turn back in time to see him closing the door. My view of the outside world swiftly narrows to a thin glowing line, then the crack of waning outside light is abruptly cut off, leaving the room as dark as night. My throat is suddenly dry. His hand that still encloses mine is gentle, but I feel how stiff his fingers are. I give his hand a suggestive squeeze, urging him to hurry up. Still he refuses to look around at me yet. I watch, peering through the gloom, as with agonizing slowness, he clicks the deadbolt into place. He reaches up for the safety chain; I can’t take this suspense! Gently, imploringly, I yank on his hand, indicating my growing impatience. And yet still he moves slowly, deliberately, as if he is some pressure suit encumbered diver exploring the murky depths of an ocean trench.
Sliding the chain home, he at last turns to me, looking into my eyes. Even in this darkness I can feel his intense stare, glinting in the dim light from the closed slat blinds. For the longest moment he just looks into my eyes, making it clear that my body is not what interests him…the most. Then his searching hand finds the light switch, and in the sudden soft glare of overhead lighting, I’m trapped by the hungry gaze he runs over me.
I enjoy the almost physical sensation of his lusting stare; It helps bury the nervous flopping of my stomach in a thrill of tingling heat, radiating out from my lower abdomen. He can do anything to me, with me, but I know just what kind of man he is… Or do I? In our time together he has always seemed easy going and respectful. But now, for a moment I can see his passionate need for my body, transforming his calm face into a mask of desire. In the next instant his face is again calm, but I’ve now seen the truth. Could the very reason for his calm movements, be attributed to the strength of his desire for me?
His right hand unclasps from mine and seizes my wrist, surely tight enough to feel my spiking pulse. Now doing the same to my other arm, his strong fingers wrap around the http://www.amazon.com/Bling-Jewelry-Sterling-Heart-Motif-Bracelet/dp/B002ZHWNHYsilver wrist bracelet an image he bought me in lieu of an engagement ring. His hand may leave a dent in it’s soft metal, he clutches so firmly. He lifts my arms like some amateur puppet master, and I get the idea quickly enough. Pulling free of his hands, I drape my forearms along his wide shoulders, lacing my gloved fingers behind his broad neck. He steps close, his hands going to my hips. Ohhh, how many times I have imagined him seizing me like this!
I shuffle back and he follows, and before I know it we are mock dancing, just like we did back on the grass after the vows, only this time I recognize the music we are swaying to; the beat of our own thrumming hearts. The purpose of such an intimate dance can only be a lead up to one thing; fulfilled desire. (Wow, I’m becoming as cheesy as him!)
I retreat steadily from him as if seeking escape, when the very thing I want most in the world is to be pressed by his body; but I am allowing his hands on my hips to guide my direction, leading to only one possible outcome. My backside bumps gently against the wall beside the door. I feel the full thrill of capture, as in the next instant, my shoulder blades are also pressed against the smooth plaster. He has me trapped! With breath held tight, I wait for him to take advantage of the situation.
Yes! His hands are slowly sliding up from my hips, over my waist and ribs… I have always thought my oversized breasts to be rather lacking in sensation, but now I sense them like never before. In fact this self tailored dress is beginning to feel very constrictive. For heavens sake, I can now feel the strong thrumming of my heartbeat in them; especially noticeable within my left breast. They are both shivering slightly with every pulse.
The rounded space between his fingers and thumbs gently press up against the curvacious undersides of my breasts, and for the first time I can remember, I am glad of my large bust, for my breasts are just the right size for his large grip. I have often imagined what his hands on my chest might feel like. Imagine that. A woman wanting to get groped! It wouldn’t fit with the slow building of the romantic mood, but still, I most certainly don’t mind skipping right to the good part…
Instead his hands slide around and to the sides of my large femininity, to stroke on towards my armpits, not even deigning to cop a feel! No matter that I have always believed such a thing would be demeaning so early on in the night. Now that he hasn’t performed the act, I am left feeling ever more impatient for his bolder attentions, and intentions, for and with me.
His hands finally come to rest on the wall just beneath my raised arms. Only then does he press close enough so that I can feel myself molding against the hardness of his body. I am out of patience! I yank on his head to bring his face closer to mine, but without any obvious effort he resists. What is his problem? Surely I am desirous enough for him?
Then, in an abrupt movement his face descends to mine. I begin to close my eyes, waiting for the blissful feeling of his lips against mine. My eyes narrowing to slits, I watch as his dark blue gaze draws ever nearer, finally coming too close to properly focus on. I can feel his breath on my lips, and yet still he is not kissing me! His nose just brushes the tip of mine, teasing. Tilting my head and leaning forward, feeling jubilantly surprised that he is finally letting me, I press my mouth against his, until at long last our lips truly meld to become one. This is the first true kiss of my life and I mean to savor it, (the brief and comparably only lightly placed peck at the wedding, does not count).
Just as I am learning the curve of his lips against mine, and before I can even begin fully enjoying myself, he is pulling his head back. I’m chagrined to admit how I try following after, like a hungry baby to the nipple.
He makes up for the brief intermission in our lip lock by sliding his left arm behind my back, stroking up and down it and pressing me even harder against him. His left hand eventually snakes further up my spine, cupping the back of my neck; and then he is kissing me again, this time much harder.
Now he seems to be holding nothing back, his lips pushing, and then as they become wet with my saliva, sliding against mine. The movement is oh so natural, but ever unique, as if there is an instinct in the both of us, telling us just how to make every instant new and engaging. As the seconds extenuate I find myself breathing through my nose, and still the kiss continues on.
As I press myself bodily against him, in ever greater surrender, I can feel his growing bulge… down there. I break the kiss enough to whimper, nearly incoherently. â€œOh my god!â€ The exclamation is something my parents have imprinted on me ever since I was a little girl, never to say, but I just can’t help myself. It was something I once had the embarrassing experience of hearing my mother yelling out in the night. I now suspect it is the most natural and intimate line encoded in every woman’s brain, as the proper reaction to her man in such a situation.
His response to my mild vulgarity? He daringly presses his pelvis even harder against mine, but at the same time his arm on my back loosens, so my breasts are no longer pressed flat as pancakes between our chests. (I exaggerate. In truth my breasts are much too firm for that.)
His free hand slides out from the wall and caresses through my exposed armpit. Under normal circumstances, such a tickling would have me in stitches, but his steady kisses have me far too distracted for something as mundane as a giggle; I just shudder slightly. He moves on quickly, avoiding my breasts, his fingertips sliding up to reach my exposed collar bone, which lies just above the high neckline of my dress. The poignancy of his light caress on my bare skin, makes me gasp against his mouth, and as my lips part, he breaths in my exhaled air like a man drowning. It reminds me of how badly he must want me, and how much he is holding back, trying to make this first time something truly memorable.
A second later he returns my breath, expelling it from his chest and back into mine. The excess carbon dioxide in this third hand air makes me feel a little light headed. I decide that I won’t be doing that again…at least not too often. I boldly kiss him, with tongue; not purposely trying to take the lead, but just wanting to tell him I’m ready for more. Blame my boldness on oxygen deprivation.
Ultimately though, I will surrender to this intimate desire of his to avoid haste. I will let him go as slow as he wants, and needs, to not lose control. After all, the night is just beginning.
I stroke my fingertips up her throat, feeling how quick and shallow her breaths are coming, and as my hand reaches up to where her shapely chin crests elegantly forth from her neck, her pressing lips briefly purse as she swallows. The undulating motion of her throat under my fingers, as she clears the excess slobber from her mouth, is so very erotic. Soon I will need to do the same, for the taste of her sweet breath has me salivating like never before; salivating for something promising to be far sweeter, far more satisfying than any than any other sight or flavor I have yet experienced; the willing and naked body of my impassioned wife. I keep my hands moving, trying not to completely lose myself in the the sensation of her kissing me; the fingers of both my hands stroking along her cheekbones, while my thumbs trace out along her jawline.
Forcing myself to break the lip lock, I can’t resist a quick nuzzle of my nose against her’s before pulling back. I need to gauge her expression before I dare continue. As suspected her storm gray eyes are smoldering, showing how eager she is for more. I would not be surprised to see a flicker of lightning in their depths, as she bites her lower lip, grinning provocatively at me. Her mouth opens and closes as she breathes, as if still trying to keep the kiss going.
No longer needing to think, I just let my instincts take over, my hand going on auto pilot as it gently slides over the shifting corner of her left jaw; Then my fingers are piercing up into the curled ringlets of perfectly placed hair just behind her left ear, knocking her http://a-rainbow-of-spirituality.com/Heart-Circlet-lg-view.htmlbronze heart circlet an image askew; all so I can grip her head and again meld her lips to mine.
Her lips stay parted with the renewal of our kissing, but not to breath. I freeze up from the unexpected feeling of the tip of her tongue, exploring along my still mostly sealed lips. Her sensational act is like electricity down my spine. She has just proven herself willing to take the next step; and oh, how I love her for it.
Though I’m still feeling content with simply pressing my mouth against hers, her tongue won’t quit trying to work it’s way between my pursed lips. Finally giving her what she wants, I part my lips. What does she do? Not much. She does not extend her tongue forward to access what I thought was her goal, but neither does she retract from it.
Bringing my own tongue forward, both our undulating mouths slow, anticipating the initial contact. I brush it’s tip against her’s, around her’s, ever so lightly. She goes perfectly still, waiting to see what I will do next; What else besides indulging myself on her candy muscle, while also satisfying her carnal desire; I press forward with my lips, to suckle at her ever teasing oral muscle.
And now that she has peaked my interest, she no longer retracts her tongue from the opportunity I present, that of exploring my mouth. I guide her tongue ever farther into my oral realm, where I plan to hold it hostage for the next minute, molesting it all the while. As soon as my lips fully seal about it’s thicker body, I begin stroking its raspy top and soft underside with my own tongue, in quick oscillating turns. She moans lustily, and I can feel the vibration from her throat along her tongue. As you might expect the noise spurs me on; I really get bold about rasping her wet muscle up one side, then smoothing it down the other.
From the way her hands grip at my face, her pinkies hooked behind the corners of my jaw, I can definitely tell she is on the far end of the mental spectrum, directly opposing repulsion. I never would have guessed her to be this erotic of a woman in the bedroom.
Almost unconsciously, my mind drifts back through several possible alterations to tonight’s game plan, adding to my imagined time-line several bolder scenarios I wanted to try out on her, but didn’t think would appropriate on our wedding night. No, I remind myself. I will keep it simple. Just because she might be willing, doesn’t change the fact that there will be plenty of time for all that stuff later, in the weeks and months to come.
It is some time before she finally, reluctantly withdraws her tongue from my mouth. Still I suspect my overenthusiastic ministrations may have weirded her out a little; So it’s only hesitantly that I follow after with my own slightly shorter tongue, her wet muscle pausing halfway between our mouths, letting me know with brief and friendly undulations, to keep following.
Now that I have bridged the nonexistent gap of our kissing lips, I draw in a steadying breath through my nostrils. It’s mostly to hold onto my waning self control, and not thrust my tongue into her mouth like some lout. It is slowly that I slide my tongue between her lips.
Her tongue on the other hand, doesn’t wait a tick in cordially welcoming mine to it’s slippery residence, even going so far as to initiate the playing of childish games for a while; Ring around the Rosie, Hide and Seek, Jump Rope, Jacks (okay, maybe not that last one). Finally, she bites down lightly on my ever maneuvering tongue, her canines rasping against my taste buds. I take this as a signal of her impatience, and I know just what to do to alleviate it.
My right hand is on the move again, and I am not sure if it is me, or instinct that is in control. It slides it’s way back down her chest, and she tenses slightly in what… expectation, as I swipe it between her busty melons.
Calling her breasts something so disrespectful, even mentally, makes me feel as if I am not giving them their due honor. They truly are her most deliciously exaggerated physical attribute, the second of course being her astonishingly lovely face. The perfectly formed swell of her large breasts, makes her chest look the most perfectly erotic curve on an already divinely feminine body. She gives a regretful little sigh when I resist any excess fondling at the inner curves of her well covered breasts.
I have heard that teasing a woman during foreplay can make her eager, even desperate for more. I’m just afraid if I stall too much longer here in the entryway, she’s going to try and grab me and toss me on the bed. (She’s probably strong enough to do it too; that is if I don’t resist).
I slide my hand down her toned abdomen, feeling the faint outline of her abdominal muscles through the smooth dress and white petticoat she wears beneath. You would think, what with the washboard stomach she has long cultivated – the hours spent straining her core doing situps and the plank on rubber mats – she might be proud to show off her stomach a little more, but in the several months that I have known her, I have only ever seen her bared abdomen once, and that quite by accident, me walking in on her whilst she was changing shirts.
The very fact that she has never flaunted herself before me, is one of the reasons I respect her so much; and also why her body is so exciting to me tonight. I want nothing more than to tear her dress off, to run my fingers over those runnels on her belly. I know, an odd desire for a man, but I have always hoped to have a muscular wife. This woman definitely fits the bill, with her powerful build and tall stature. It is as if she was made just for me, ever aspect of her personality and body, custom tailored to my day dreaming specifications.
I run my hand outwards, along the path of her second abdominal crease, til I reach the very last of her false ribs, then I stroke the several inches down to briefly grasp her hip. Her angled hip bones always get me to thinking of the treasure that lies between them, and that leads to thoughts of the inevitable final act of our marriage, the physical union that will consummate our life together as husband and wife. I can tell from the way her torso now moves forward to press against mine, that she is also looking forward to it.
Her sweet breath shudders and quickens as I boldly run my hand down further, to feel at how the dress tightly constrains her right thigh. Beneath the dress material I can feel the rounded off squareness of her squat press developed thighs.
All this time I have been planting lingering kisses against her soft pink lips; with two second long intervals in between, just long enough to pull back and get a brief look of her smoky eyes. Each of these kisses makes a palpable noise upon breaking, as she tries to extenuate the smooch by sucking at my lips, and I withdraw with a slight squelch.
Her mouth is full of saliva again, and this time she is not bothering to swallow it. I want to taste her wellspring so badly, but first I need to make my move. Kissing along her right cheek – which is devoid of makeup as I prefer – I speak close to her ear. â€œI loved your naughty little exclamation, and I think I know just what caused it.â€ Whilst I speak into her ear, I stroke my hand over where the taught material of her dress conceals her pubic mound.
Her breath catches, then a huff of air escapes her mouth, tickling my own ear; yet her hips shift minutely, giving better access to my probing fingers. â€œOh my Goddess, my wife… my woman,â€ I whisper; The location of my fingers, gently probing her female spot, along with my possessive words, proving that when the moment is right, I don’t have a problem at all with being bold. â€œWill you whimper those words to me again later, as I fill you up tight?â€ She nods her head ever so slightly, and her brushing cheek feels very warm against mine. If her blush was the only reward for my provocative words, than it would still be enough, but now she is practically melting against me with wifely passion.
I pull my hand free of our mashed together torsos, slipping it behind her, stroking it over the backs of her thighs. Now the straining crotch of my pants takes over the duty of lightly grinding her pubic area. Her hips buck right back against mine, proving her to be the type of woman who always take an active part in copulation.
I move my left arm, repositioning the hand that I have long been using to stroke her back and neck. It feels like a long time, but it’s been no more than two minutes since I first started kissing her. I suspect that as a general rule, time is very hard to keep track of during lovemaking.
My left arm wraps around her middle back, and my fingers get a hold on the pliable ridge that is her slackened left lat muscle. Our again parting mouths make an extra loud squelch this time, as her’s is full with saliva. I hope my next movements don’t cause her to inadvertently swallow.
My right arm fully slides behind her thighs as, resisting the urge to again marry her glossy wet lips to my own, I instead lean down to kiss her right clavical. With an easy tilting and lifting, I again pick her up and hold her tight in my arms. This time I feel the weight of her a little more, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Her thick thighs rest on my right arm, the underside of her firm but substantial buttocks, pressing against my half curled bicep and inner forearm muscles. She curls her knees slightly to better maintain her balance in my arms.
Probably the greatest dates I have with her, (she would call it courting), are our trips to the gym. Watching her perform half a dozen chin-ups, or leg pressing thrice her body weight… what more could any man want in a woman’s physical body?! What a man could want is to make that body permanently belong to him, and so that is just what I have done. And now is the time to reap the rewards of my short but respectful courtship.
Bending my head down, I lift her upper body a little higher, her lips approaching mine. Her own strong arms and white gloved hands, which are still clasped behind my neck, help raise her up. She’s the one who draws our lips together, her strong hold helping alleviate my biceps’ workload. Now the slight effort I am exerting, can easily be maintained for several minutes, especially with a mouth like hers to indulge on.
From where she lies in my arms, her face beneath mine, there is only one way to access to her mouthful of honey; I suck the warm and watery slobber right out from between her lips, making her cheeks briefly hallow. She pulls back in shock, her deep but sun-touched foggy eyes wide; but then she gives a throaty chuckle that ends in an excited moan, a passionate noise I have never heard the like of before.
I could peer into her steady gaze forever, especially when her eyes are so alight with her bold excitement. She now knows just how much I want her body, and how she approves!
I walk to the bed with her in my arms, navigating around the waist-high, short entryway wall, not once glancing away from her anticipatory expression. My eyes are so captivated by the visionary distraction of her beauty, I come close to tripping over the small bag she tossed down beside the bed. My klutziness has nearly caused a disastrous tumble, but not even my bumbling is enough to spoil this perfect moment. I recover from the stumble, but keep right on looking at her.
She looks away to roll her eyes, but I can’t resist kissing those pursed lips just one more time. Then, dropping her down onto the bed, the night’s appetizer truly begins.