Straight: Husband and Wife:
Edwardian Wedding Night
Author: harbour1982 Published: 9/23/2008 story views: 3257
Sissi was a bright girl from a strong religious background and wanted nothing to do with me at first. This, of course, only served to make her even more appealing to me. The way she avoided me made it obvious that she had heard the stories. Some of them were true, a few no doubt were grossly exaggerated. It was my fourth and final year at university and, like most of my fellow students, I had begun to think about marriage.
Once I had made up my mind to take her as my wife, I put an immediate stop to all my sinful ways. I returned to church and threw myself into my music. I made no direct attempt to get her attention, opting instead to let my reformed ways speak for themselves.
It took me almost a year but in the end I won her trust and by my twenty-fourth year we were engaged. I hadn’t a single reservation about settling down and spending the rest of my life with her. While I cannot honestly say I felt the same way for her as I had about my first love, my feelings for Sissi were strong enough to hold my interest and I was confident that, with time, I would love her. I had every intention of dedicating myself wholeheartedly to the marriage and would do my utmost to fill the role of a good husband.
We were married on the first Saturday of February in the year 1901.
* * * * *
It was already dark when we finally retired to our room. Going against every fibre of my physical being, I kissed her on the forehead, told her to take all the time she needed and then withdrew to the neighbouring room, leaving her alone to process all that had happened. It had been a long day, one of the most important days of her life, and I could only imagine what she must have been feeling. Sadness, happiness, fear and a number of other emotions, probably. As keen as I was to consummate our union, I did not wish to rush her into yet another stressful situation which I knew she wasn’t ready for.
I took a seat at the dining table and distracted myself by reading through a pile of cards from friends and well-wishers. Well over an hour had passed before I finished answering them all, but the task had served to take my mind off the nagging feeling of excitement in the pit of my stomach. Partially, anyway. I glanced at the clock for the hundredth time that evening and stacked the thank-you notes neatly into a pile.
Hoping I had given my new wife enough time to prepare herself for our first night together, I got to my feet, loosened my tie and put out the light.
When I entered the room I found her sitting at the dressing table, gazing into the mirror as she brushed her long brown hair. I noticed she had changed out of her dress and was wearing a plain white nightgown that hugged the curve of her breast and ended just above the knee.
She lifted her glance as I approached. I stroked the side of her face with the back of my hand and she closed her eyes. For an instant I felt like an executioner who was about to lead his victim off to the gallows, and this evoked opposing feelings within me. On the one hand I disliked the thought of her fearing me, even the slightest bit. But on the other, it was somehow arousing to know that I possessed this power over her. That I had the final say in things. I was her husband now and she was obligated by her faith to obey me. She knew as well as I that our marriage would not be valid in the eyes of God until we had offered ourselves up to one another physically.
The tension between us was so great, so delicious that I was almost reluctant to see it draw to a close, but I had been waiting for this moment for more than a year and the time for ignoring my desire was over.
“Let’s go to bed, shall we?” I said with a little smile.
Averting her eyes, she nodded bravely. Taking her hand in mine, I helped her to her feet and led her to the four-posted bed.
“Lie back,” I said softly. Her nervousness was evident but she did as she was told and I savoured the feeling of exerting such complete control over her. Beneath my trousers my manhood already stood hard and proud. My heart pounded as I ran my fingertips down her rosy cheek. She bashfully turned away and I took in the sight of my blushing bride lying there beneath me. After a minute or two I touched the side of her face again and turned it to mine. Her mouth was so inviting I could not restrain myself and soon I was kissing her deeply. She passively accepted my kiss, neither reciprocating nor struggling against it, and it was plain to see that she had never been kissed in such a way before.
I broke away to let her catch her breath and my mouth slipped down to her neck, where I breathed in the smell of her skin. Then my tongue wandered over her collarbone and up her throat, causing her head to roll back as I kissed my way up her chin, finally returning to her mouth. This time she kissed me back and I smiled to myself. She was warming to me.
My hand found its way under the skirt of her dress and moved cautiously upwards, pulling her closer to me. My tongue continued to caress hers as my hand came to rest between her thighs. My pulse quickened when I realised she was not wearing any underwear. Apparently she had been told a thing or two about the marital embrace after all.
My body burned with lust and our kiss intensified. I wanted to do so many things to her that I barely knew where to begin. Lifting myself off of her, I looked at her once more and basked in her virginal beauty and anxiety. Then I pulled her gently with me to the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor between her legs. I hiked up her skirt and felt her muscles tense as my mouth met her soft pussy. I inhaled deeply and the pure womanly smell of her sent shivers down my spine and made my cock throb with renewed force. Dizzy with desire, I licked and kissed her womanhood, tasted her for the first time.
Trying hard to remain calm, I slowly undid my trousers and released my swollen sex from its confines as I explored her with my mouth and tongue. While I knew full well that her reservations and uncertainty were too great for her to fully take pleasure in my oral attentions, I still hoped she had enjoyed them on some level. How I looked forward to getting to know her body over the coming hours, days, weeks and months – to learning what made her tick.
With my initial hunger sated, I got back onto the bed and looked down at her. She lay there trembling in her innocence, her chest rapidly rising and falling. I doubted she knew much at all about sex, which meant she was left either to assume that my actions were a normal part of the act or that she had a very sick man for a husband. There was no way for me to know what she was really thinking, and anyway her thoughts were of little consequence to me at that moment.
One meagre lamp still burned in the corner of the room and she looked more beautiful than ever in the warm light that it gave off. Her eyes fell upon the swollen red object I held in my hand and despite her stoic manner I could strongly sense the fear she felt.
“I won’t hurt you,” I assured her as best I could, leaning over her and kissing her once more on the lips. I tried to put myself in her place, to imagine how terrified she must have felt. Her nervousness was not going to make it easy for me to keep my word.
I pressed my body close to hers and positioned myself between her legs. Her body was trembling so slightly it barely registered over our breathing, but I felt it nonetheless. Her eyes were closed but when I reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear she opened them and we gazed at one another for what felt like an eternity. My hand slipped down her body and up under her skirt. I hoped for her sake that some of the wetness I felt there was her own and let my hand linger at the soft swell of her sex before I slowly sought out her entrance. With an intake of breath she recoiled as I pressed a finger to her virginal opening.
“It’s ok,” I whispered, letting my lips brush against hers as I used a finger to slowly enter her. She was so tight that I had to inch my way in so as not to hurt her, and despite my best efforts, I could tell she felt discomfort. When I had penetrated her just past my knuckle, I withdrew and repeated the motion. After continuing like this a number of times, I brought my mouth to her ear and asked, “Does that feel ok?” to which she gave a little nod in reply. With ragged breath and racing pulse I continued to slowly fuck her with my finger and ever so gradually she relaxed into my touch. Meanwhile I was becoming increasingly turned on and at last I could not hold back any longer. The time had come.
I did not try to prepare her by inserting a second or third finger as I should have done, nor did I attempt to warn her about the pain she would experience. Surely she knew, as did every young woman, that it was a bride’s fate to bleed on her wedding night, and no words of comfort from me would change that.
My cock was now so rigid it was actually sore, and it jerked instinctively when I took it in my hand and guided it to her slit. My juices trickled from the tip and mixed with hers as I briefly relished the feel of her soft flesh against my own. Then, supporting my weight with my left arm I pressed my swollen cock more firmly to her entrance and began to work my way inside her. I met with such resistance that I could not escape the dreadful feeling that I was slowly ripping her open. Strong woman that she was, she did not cry out, but brought her hands to my back and I felt her nails dig into my skin. I pushed deeper and deeper inside her until I was all the way in. Her wet heat held my cock tightly and it felt so incredible that a little moan escaped my lips. I pulled halfway out of her and then buried my full length inside her once more, just to relive the intense sensation a second time.
I was not going to fuck her hard, not this time. I wanted our first time to be as intimate as possible. An indescribable warmth spread through my body as I established a calm rhythm, slowly thrusting into her again and again.
“Look at me, Sissi,” I said in a low voice. She complied with my wish and I felt an amazing sense of power. My eyes held hers as I passionately made love to her. The light was dying but I saw a tear roll down the side of her face and I kissed it away.
My thoughts turned to my mother. She was still awake, no doubt. Too excited to sleep. I knew her thoughts were with me and my bride; knew that she was praying to God that Sissi would conceive and that we’d start a family without delay. The thought was strange to me, but in a good way. This union was a first for me as well. The first time I had engaged in sex that was not considered sinful. I felt clean and my actions righteous.
Her breathing became louder as I thrust into her a little faster, and I knew that I was hurting her despite my attempts to be gentle. I closed my eyes as my body tensed and I tried to imagine that she enjoyed what I was doing to her. At that moment she felt like a stranger to me, and as I searched my heart for the love I was supposed to feel for her, my thoughts instinctively returned to the girl I’d lost my heart to years ago. The one I still loved. And rather than turn away from her, I held on to the image of her as I came. The guilt would come later, of that I was certain.
Sissi lay still beneath me, looking radiant. I brought my mouth to her damp forehead and kissed it softly as my heartbeat gradually returned to normal.
Although I wanted to be alone, I held her close instead. With uneasiness in my heart I leaned in closer and my cheek touched against hers.
“Now,” I whispered, “we are married.”