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The Honeymoon Ch. 01

By: storyteller069



They were finally married. She could not believe it. They were now driving towards the mountains to their secluded cabin to begin their 2 week honeymoon. The cabin was wonderful. It had all the amenities and no one could bother them. Cell phone service was spotty at best. Jesse could not wait to get there. Jesse knew what she was going to do to Eric as soon as she got inside the cabin. But first they had to get there. She was getting hot just thinking about the sex. Her shaved pussy was getting wet thinking about it. She decided that while Eric drove, she would enjoy herself a little. In the driver's seat, Eric noticed what his new wife was doing and he could not wait to fuck her silly. His 8 inch cock was getting hard watching her. It was going to be a fun 2 weeks. 

Jesse, at 5 foot 2 and 19 years old, had a very small frame. Eric enjoyed watching her from behind as she walked up to the cabin. He liked how her blonde hair swayed in the breeze. As she walked up to the cabin, he got the bags. He loved being in the middle of nowhere. 

Jesse walked up to the cabin and opened the door. She did not realize how dark it would be. As she opened the cabin and walked in someone reached out and grabbed her. Before she could scream, she had a rag with chloroform over her face. She was out cold.  

Eric had the bags in his hands and was wondering why Jesse had not turned any lights on in the cabin. Oh well he thought and continued up the steps. He entered the door and began to call for his new wife, but before he could get her name out, he was knocked out cold by a hard fist. No use using chloroform on him, he is a big guy. 

When Jesse came to, she realized she was cold. There was a body underneath her but she could tell whose it was. Jesse tried to move but she could not. She seemed to be tied up in a position that left her stuck on her hands and knees. At this point Jesse realized she was naked. She had no idea what was going on. She screamed for help. At this point a light came on and standing in the door way were two big guys. They both stood over 6 feet 3. "Well Well said the bigger of the two. It looks as if the cute little blonde has woken up."

The other spoke up and said that he was Bill and his friend was Joe. He went on to say that they were on the run and using this cabin as their hideout. They had not been truly expecting company but they had the chloroform just in case. Joe continued and told Jesse that they were on their way to prison and they both knew it. He went on to explain to her that she happened to be a nice little surprise that just landed in their hideout. Bill told her they were going to have fun with her.

At this point Jesse began to get very scared. She did not have that much experience sexually and these guys were big. At this point in time, she began searching the room for Eric when she realized that he was tied naked under her in the 69 position. Bill told her that he and Joe were going to use her up while her new hubby watched helplessly from this vantage point. He would have a great view.

Joe grabbed a bucket of water and splashed it in Eric's face. He slowly came to and realized that he was tied up naked and staring into his wife's shaved pussy. He struggled futilely to which Joe and Bill just laughed. Eric began screaming, "I'm going to kill you motherfuckers!" Bill and Joe just laughed more. Finally Eric quit his struggle. He and Jesse knew it was going to be a long night.

Bill said he was going to start this little party. He dropped his pants in front of Jesse's face. She just stared at his cock. Flaccid, it was almost as big as Eric's. "Suck it bitch." Not knowing what else to do she complied. She began by licking his head like a lollipop. His cock grew a little. She licked down the side of his cock and finally took his member into her mouth, all 13 inches. Eric could not fully see what was going on but he could see that his new wife's pussy was beginning to glisten with wetness. He knew she liked sucking cock. 

While Jesse sucked on Bill, Joe had dropped his pants and was now. Eric saw, from his vantage point that Joe had a cock that was about average in length, but about as big around as soda can. Jesse had no idea what was going on behind her, she just sucked furiously hoping to end this ordeal. Joe came from behind her and began to finger her moist cunt. He pointed out to Bill, "Hey, the bitch is already wet." He got up behind her and placed the head of his cock into the entrance to Jesse's shaved pussy. Eric was horrified when he realized what was about to happen. As Joe entered Jesse's tight pussy, she had to pause her cock sucking. She had never felt so filled up before. As much as she hated to admit, it felt really damn good. Joe pushed his cock all the way in and Jesse just moaned. He began to pump his cock in and out of her right above Eric's face. Eric was watching his wife be violated in two holes and he could not help but start to feel aroused. At this point in time Bill could take no more and he exploded into Jesse's young mouth. Jesse swallowed as much as she could but some leaked out of her mouth. 

Meanwhile, Joe continued pumping away. Jesse could feel the orgasm approaching her. She began vigorously fucking Joe while he fucked her. All of this occurred just inches from her new husband's face. While this was going on, Bill pointed out to Jesse that maybe she should take care of her husband's hard cock. She took his cock into her mouth without thinking as she moaned with Joe's extremely fat cock in her pussy. She fucked him so hard and it felt so good that she never even stopped to consider that she had stopped taking her birth control about 2 months ago in hopes that she and Eric could conceive on their honeymoon. By the end of the night, she would conceive. She just would not know who the child's father was, because Joe could take no more and he blew his load deep into Jesse's waiting cunt. He seemed to blow so much and when he pulled out, he pulled some with him dripping it onto Eric's face. 

Jesse felt the cock pull out of her but she knew she wanted more. Immediately before anything else could happen, she began to grind her come filled cunt on her husband's face. She had no thought process as to how this must have humiliated him. She just wanted to come some more. She just hoped that Bill and Joe would have more in them after they had come once. She hoped that they may let her fuck her husband as well, not because he was her husband, but because he had a hard dick. Oh how she wanted so much more.

The Honeymoon Ch. 01



When Amanda Daniels woke up, she thought, Oh, that's right, I'm Amanda Greer now. The thought made her inordinately happy.

Patrick was still asleep, his arm flung carelessly to one side; she remembered several elbows in the night. Around her was the paneled majesty of the bridal suite: they had curtains and a four-poster bed and even a jacuzzi. Kerri had insisted they take it; she and Winston were in a presidential suite one level down. Amanda was grateful, but she was a creature of habit; sleeping in new places was difficult for her.

The overall decorative motif for the bridal suite was white, with lace ruffles here and there and touches of both cream and pink to set it all off. The pure, untouched colorings were ironic, considering what it had been mostly used for last night. Patrick's hands had been all over her. All over her, for the first time. She still wasn't wearing anything. That had been another uncomfortable new thing to learn to live with. That, and Patrick's elbows and knees as he rolled in his sleep; and his mouth-breathing, this close to being snoring. And his arms around her in the night, his heartbeat against her back too; those were more pleasant to adapt to.

He began to stir, and she leaned down to kiss him awake. "Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he said. It made her heart dance in her breast to hear it--she had heard the words before, from many different people, even from Patrick on occasion; but never first thing in the morning, from the mouth of her husband and love of her life. "What time is it?"

"Time to get up," she said. "Remember? We said we'd meet the Kollaths at nine for the continental breakfast, and our flight leaves at one."

"Hzmrgh," he mumbled. He rolled over and buried his face in a pillow. "Five more minutes..."

"Come on, dozy-toes," she said, kissing his shoulders, his back, his neck. "Up and at 'em." It took her a little while, but she got him on his feet, and then shoveled him in the shower while she packed up the clothes they had left strewn around the floor last night. This was her wedding dress; she wanted to keep it for the rest of her life. "Why don't you come in with me," he asked when she pushed him in the shower, but she ignored him. Shower with him? What a silly idea. She had the whole area packed up and ready to go by the time he got out, and she jumped in and showered quickly. Leaving her dark hair unbound--it would dry faster that way, and besides Patrick liked it loose--she scampered out to dress.

As she got herself decently clothed, Patrick approached. To her surprise, he wasn't wearing anything yet. "We're awake," he said, "but I haven't had a chance to say good morning to you properly." He scooped her into his arms and gave her a long, lingering kiss. He was quite a bit taller than her, but she was long used to rising up on tippy-toes to reach him, knowing that he would be there to catch her if she fell.

"Good morning, Mrs. Greer," he said, smiling.

"Good morning, Mr. Greer," she returned. "We finally made it."

"We did," he said. "There were some rough spots this week, what with flowers and all--"

"Ugh, god, don't remind me."

"--but we made it. And here we are." He reached down to kiss her again, and she let herself melt into his embrace, her arms around his neck.

"I liked what we did last night," he said, and she became suddenly aware of his manhood bumping against her belly. Now his nudity made sense.

"Baby, I love you, but, we don't have time," she said. "We have to be downstairs in ten minutes."

"They can wait," he said, his voice husky. Their foreheads were together and his eyes were inches from her own.

"Honey, I don't want to be late," she said. "That's not a good way to start off our marriage. Besides, we'll have time tonight... And every night for the rest of our lives."

He gave a sigh. "All right. But I'm holding you to that, darling." His hand drifted lower, squeezed her rear gently. "I want you."

She smiled. "And I you."

As he bent next to her to dig clothing out of his bag, she allowed herself to look over his body--tall (over six feet), well-muscled, with a firm behind, a narrow waist leading up to broad shoulders. He had been in the Marines. She wished she could feel desire for him, but she didn't know how. She knew he had been looking forward to the consummation. If only she could've said the same.

Kerri and Winston were already waiting down in the lobby for them. Amanda greeted them with smiles and kisses--after all, they were practically family. "Good morning, Mrs. Kollath."

Kerri laughed. "Who? What? Winnie's mom is here? Where?"

Kerri and Amanda had been flung together by the random chance of freshman roommate assignments. Now Amanda thought of Kerri as less a best friend and more a sister. When both of them became engaged within a month of each other, it was Kerri's idea to have a joint wedding, but Amanda liked it, and both their fiancés were amenable. Patrick and Winston had never been quite as close, but they were friends and got along fine.

"Well, come on then, Mrs. Greer," Kerri chirped, grabbing both Amanda and Winston by the hand; Amanda caught Patrick with her free hand, tugging him along. "Breakfast awaits, and then the honeymoon! A week's worth of tropical paradise with nothing to hold us back!" Kerri was a small, neat blonde with a pixie haircut and bubbly, effervescent personality; she had a way of making Amanda feel middle-aged by comparison. Patrick had never once complained, but she had a hunch that he might've traded her body's for Kerri if the option had existed; Kerri had the slim, practically anorexic look that was so in fashion today, while Amanda had to fight the fat and her raven hair to look attractive.

Patrick and Winston could not have been more different either. Winston was not nearly as tall and had a sloppy, unshaven rock-star look to him. He wore glasses, and corduroys and collared shirts, but she knew Patrick could never have done that sort of look; she was still fighting him to grow his hair out past five centimeters. She liked having male hair to play with, something Winston had in abundance.

"So, how was your evening?" Kerri asked with a playful grin.

Amanda glanced at Patrick. "It was lovely," she said, self-conscious. "We went upstairs and, umm, made ourselves comfortable... And then we went to sleep." That was about as close as she was going to get to admitting in public that she and her husband had had sex last night.

Kerri had no such compunctions. "Oh, 'made yourselves comfortable,' is that what they're calling it nowadays?" She giggled. "Winston and I just had sex. You know, same old same old. Didn't need any new names for it."

Amanda could feel her face redden. To deter the inevitable question, she said, "How was it? Any good?" On the list of things she would rather not discuss over breakfast, Winston and Kerri's sex life was near the top of the list--just under the topic of her sex life with Patrick.

"Oh, girl, you would not believe!" said Kerri. "He made me climax so hard my toes are still curled! People probably heard me down the hall!" She giggled again.

Amanda nodded and smiled and tried to look knowledgeable. Kerri spoke often of this mythical 'climax' thing, which evidently was the most awesome thing since sliced bread. Amanda had no idea personally what it was, since Kerri just took it for granted. The best thing Amanda could do, as far as she could tell, was just play along.

One of the reasons Amanda valued her friend so much was that Kerri had so many different opinions from her. Sex was one of them. Amanda was a devout Christian who had decided to wait until marriage; Patrick, who had lost his virginity in the Marines, had the patience to wait. But Kerri and Winston had been doing it practically since day one, much to Patrick's envy. The way they talked about it was a complete mystery to Amanda. Wasn't it true that sex was a dirty, sinful thing, and should only be engaged in to strengthen the bonds of marriage, and in the hope of children? Personally, Amanda didn't understand how Patrick putting his thingie into her whathaveyou had 'strengthened' their marriage--he had gasped and made faces and strained as if something were painful, while she had wondered what was going on. But Patrick had liked it, since he wanted to do it again. She knew there was more going on here than she was aware of; that wasn't news. But she wished she knew what.

They ate while they chattered about the vacation ahead; fortunately, Kerri seemed to have satisfied her need to discuss the details of her and Winston's intimate life. And before long, they were handing over their luggage at the airport, and the plane was leaping into the sky. Amanda had never flown before, and Kerri willingly passed up the window seat to her.

The seating arrangements were a moment of tension; they had booked two rows of two, but Kerri requested that she be allowed to sit with Amanda. "I know you just got your hands on her, Patrick, but you'll have that for the rest of your life. Right now we've got girl talk to get done. And wouldn't you rather us do that now, then later when we're on the ground?" Patrick relented with good grace, laughing when Winston pointed out that they could likewise have 'guy talk,' and so when Amanda flew for the first time in her life, it was with her sister at her side, not her husband.

"So," Kerri said, setting her cocktail glass down on the unfolded tray table and turning to face her. "How was it?"

Amanda feigned ignorance, hoping she'd be deterred. "How was what?"

"You know, silly!" Kerri dropped her voice as low as it could get (not very) and put on an expression of mock solemnity. "The consummation."

Amanda stifled a sigh. If it had to happen, let it happen quickly. "Oh, it was... It was fine. Very pleasant." She took a sip of her Coke to avoid looking at Kerri's scandalized expression.

" 'Very pleasant'? Your consummation, your de-virginalization, the first sex of your life and all you can say is that it was 'very pleasant'?"

"Well, what's to say?" Amanda said. "We kissed, he put his hands on my body, he put his thing in me, and that was that."

Kerri's expression was something to behold. For a moment she debated turning to Patrick and asking for the camera.

"Girl, I know you were a virgin, but he wasn't. And besides, It's your husband. Come on. You're making love to the man of your life. Didn't you feel more than that?"

Amanda shrugged.

"God, at least say he made you cum."

The terminology escaped her. "...Made me what?"

"Made you orgasm."

Amanda blinked at her.

"Climax? Made you climax?"

"Umm... Yeah," Amanda lied, grasping at straws. "Yeah, it was... great."

"Amanda, you don't even know what that word means, do you." It wasn't a question.

Amanda sighed. "Look, I'm not... Kerri, I'm not like you, okay? You're all... You and Winston have sex, a lot, and I know that. That's just not who I am."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean it's okay to not enjoy it," Kerri said.

"I... I did enjoy it," Amanda protested.

Kerri arched an eyebrow.

"Look, can we drop it, okay?" Amanda said. "This isn't important."

"Yes it is," Kerri said, and to Amanda's surprise her voice was not angry. It was sad. "Hon, it is important that you enjoy sex. It's one of the most miraculous things you'll ever do with your husband, and one of the most intimate. You'll see parts of him and learn things about him that nobody else ever will. You'll get to do things to him that are incredibly special, and have incredibly special things done to you in return. To speak your language, it's part of what God wants you to share with your husband. And you plan to tell me that it's not important that you share it?"

"Okay, fine," Amanda said, to get Kerri off her case. "How do I enjoy it."

She was surprised when Kerri entered a thoughtful silence. She chewed on the straw of her cocktail before handing the drink to Amanda and standing up to look over the back of the airline chair. "Pat, honey?"

"Yes, Kerri?"

"Does Amanda masturbate?"

Amanda felt her jaw drop. To just ask that, so brazenly--and of her husband! Surely Patrick would have the sense to not answer. But no, his voice came back quickly, even over the rushing din of the air flowing by outside. "No, not to my knowledge."

"To your knowledge, has she ever climaxed?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"All right. Thanks, handsome." That was Kerri's way--to flirt with, well, just about everybody. She settled back into her seat again and regarded Amanda with a mixture of speculation and pity.

Amanda felt a twinge of worry in her gut. "Do you really think this is important, Ker?"

"Yeah, Mandy, I do," Kerri said. "To your happiness and to your marriage."

Amanda sighed. "Well... Then, tell me. Tell me what to do."

"What do you think I'm trying to figure out," Kerri said with a hint of a smile. "A crash course on human sexuality. Not an easy subject. Did your parents ever talk to you about it? I mean, I bet you got the birds-and-the-bees thing."

"Yeah."

"And, if not, you'd know about it by now, since it just went on in your body last night."

Oh, that aspect of the birds and the bees. "Right." She'd have preferred to ignore that part.

"What did your parents say when they caught you masturbating?" Kerri asked.

Amanda shrugged. "They never did."

"Wait, so, you were good at sneaking about it?" said Kerri. "But if that's true, then how come... Oh. Right. You just didn't, at all. Ho boy. All right, umm... Did they have anything to say to you about sex in the context of marriage? I mean, obviously they told you not to have it until you got married."

Amanda nodded.

"Did they say anything about becoming sexual?"

"What?"

"I mean, like, they discouraged masturbation, right?"

"Well... Yeah. It's right there in the Bible, the sin of Onan."

"And yet they said that you're supposed to enjoy sex with your husband?"

"Well... Yeah. I mean, they said I should find it pleasurable and to talk with our pastor if I didn't."

Kerri ejected a snort. "Typical Christian hypocrisy!"

"Hey!" said Amanda, who was proud to be Christian.

"Discouraging you from having a healthy sex life and then criticizing you for not doing it anyway. Boy, these wise people."

"Kerri, what on earth are you saying? Are you saying that, to enjoy sex, I have to masturbate? That's... That's a silly thought."

"Why?" said Kerri. "The female sexual response can be difficult to engage. It needs practice."

"So what?" said Amanda. "Patrick and I will practice. Besides, we did it last night; it's not like it didn't work."

"Mandy, just because it worked doesn't mean you have a healthy sex life. That just means your sex life exists."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Oh, so, you can't imagine it getting any better, can you? You look forward to doing that every day with Patrick for the rest of your life, do you?"

The second remark hit a little too close to home. Unfortunately, it was also dead on. "No, Kerri. I can't imagine it getting any better. How could I? I have zero experience with all this. That's what you're stumbling over, isn't it?"

"It is," Kerri sighed. "And, no, I don't know what to do. You remember the rules of math: one is infinitely larger than zero. And the first step is the same. But, sweetie, it can be better. It can be so much better."

Amanda couldn't deny that better sex would make the whole thing palatable. But she did have her pride. Besides, all of this seemed like a lot of trouble. This whole masturbation thing--silly. Why bother? Sex was something she had lived without for almost thirty years, and she didn't feel like there had been any reduction in her quality of life because of its absence. How could anyone claim that adding it would cause things to get worse? Clearly, that would be untrue. Things would work themselves out--tonight, even!--and she wouldn't have to lift a finger about it.

Of course, that theory was put to the test within twelve hours.

They had landed at the airport and retrieved their luggage; they had taken an airport van to the hotel, a gorgeous resort in scroll-worked stone and classic pillars. They had checked into their shared suite, and spent the afternoon and evening exploring the resort itself--swimming pools in lagoon shapes connected by waterfalls; tropical birds flapping in and out amongst the open architecture; too many dining establishments and styles of cuisine to choose from; an infinity of white sand and a beach teeming with life, both aquatic and sapient. But now the exploration was over, the evening meal had been consumed, and it was time to retreat back to their rooms for more private pursuits. Amanda had been married for 27 hours.

The door had barely closed behind them that Patrick was moving in on her. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her repeatedly: "I--have been--waiting for this--all day."

"Have you nmmfff. Have you now."

He kept kissing her. "On the plane--when Winston and I were talking--he gave me--all sorts of ideas--to do to you."

"Is that snnmmmff. Is that so." Inwardly she stifled a sigh of despair. Was she the only person in this suite who wasn't thinking about sex 24/7?

"Yes." His kisses were becoming longer as he drew her further into the circle of his arms, their bodies beginning to meld together. "And now... I get to try... Some of them out."

"Well..." She interposed a finger between her lips and his, so that her next line could have its full impact: "I'm yours, to do with what you will."

The smile he gave made his eyes seem to smolder. "Hmm. Just what I was hoping to hear."

For a little while they just kissed, lip on lip, arm in arm, and she counseled herself to relax. This was something she knew. She remembered their first kiss, at the end of their first date, and how she had pressed herself against the door after it closed, a delighted smile on her face, looking forward to the day when she could kiss him again. He was so tall, so broad of shoulder, but she never felt an urge to cower before him; he was like a shelter, a broad-branched tree, for her to nestle herself against and be protected.

To her surprise, he started below. His hand had been roaming up and down her body, but now one of them insinuated itself underneath her skirt, cupping one of her buttocks. The skirt was elastic; in a moment it was sliding down her legs. Hadn't he always paid more attention to her breasts while they were dating? But then again, she'd been wearing the white tennis skirt he'd always said made her look perfect; perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised.

Next to go was her shirt, the open-collared one in the forest green; she knew he liked it because of the way it accented her breasts when he looked down at her from the side. Finally, he reached around and let loose her hair, tossing the clip off to one side. Now she had nothing on except her bra and panties, while he was still fully clothed. Smiling, she turned the tables by doing the same to him--running her hands and her nails over his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles and ribs. He didn't keep himself in quite as fantastic shape as he had when she first met him, fresh off his final tour of duty, but there was still a lot there to be found. Then, teasingly, she unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop, running her hands down the front of his legs; he was wearing some slick polyester-type material for boxers. Stepping close to kiss him, she smelled male sweat and warm flesh.

Now he dropped to his knees in front of her, kissing her stomach, trailing his way down. It was ticklish, but good at the same time; she had always enjoyed playing with his body, his back and shoulders and the pliant flesh of his large hands. And she liked it when he did the same to her. It lit a tingling feeling inside her, an almost sinful level of relaxation, and comfort too--comfort in the hands of her man, knowing that nothing could ever hurt her while he watched over her.




The Honeymoon Ch. 01



It was when he started kissing her underwear that she started to giggle a little.

"What?" he said.

"Well... Why are you doing that? It's just cotton, it can't taste very good. And it's not a body part on me, so I don't feel anything."

"Well, it was an idea," he said. "We're supposed to experiment with each other, you know."

She giggled again. "Well, you can cross that one off the list."

He started kissing her tummy again, making her wonder if there was something about that area she should know about. This time, though, he began by stripping off her panties entire; now she was bare except for her bra. He let his kisses follow the contours of her body, down the curve of her hips and then down the crease leading inwards to her private area. Instead of going there, though, he made a detour down her left thigh, planting tickly kisses all over it. Then he moved to her other leg.

She watched his wanderings with growing amusement. It felt pleasant, sure, but... "Is this supposed to be going somewhere?"

"Well, with any luck, it's supposed to get you hot," he said. He gave her a smile, but she could sense his impatience.

"Maybe you should do what you did yesterday," she said. "That seemed to work."

He shrugged as he came to his feet. "I guess." Then, without warning, he scooped her up and carried to the bed. She gave a yelp of protest, but almost before she could react, he had plonked her down.

"Patrick! Unless you want your wife and the mother of your children to die of a heart attack long before any of that ever happens, you should warn me before you do that!"

He gave another casual shrug. "I just picked you up. You should learn to relax more, Amanda."

When I'm being manhandled by this giant ape of a husband of mine? she thought, but she kept it to herself.

He reclined on the bed next to her, and then reached to pull her lips down to his. She submerged her irritation. Relax, he'd said. Fine, she'd try to relax. She heard the whoosh of the sea outside, barely audible through the closed windows, and the hum of the air conditioner; she felt the scratchy cotton of the bedspread under her elbow, the heat of Patrick's hand in the small of her back. Her breasts were at an angle, a little bit uncomfortable in their bra.

He must have noticed, because his hand moved higher; and just like that, she was naked, her breasts now hanging free. She stifled an urge to cover them with a hand. That was an appropriate response to just about anyone else in the world... But before her was the one man to whom she should make an exception. She wondered what he thought about them. They were heavy and large--one upside to weighing as much as she did--but she thought they were too veiny, the skin too translucent. Surely he must prefer... What else could breasts be like? She didn't know, but surely he must prefer them.

Last night he had started with her breasts, and she knew he would move there eventually. She didn't know how to think of the feeling--a deep pulling sensation that seemed to go all the way down inside her, as though her breast was searching for milk for him. Would it be like that when a child suckled there eventually?--a child, hers and Patrick's, born out of union of sperm and egg and grown in her womb from his seed. She wanted one someday, and knew he did too. But they'd never get there if they couldn't figure this out first.

He laid her down to her back on the bed, leaning over her, kissing his way around her breast. Then he switched to the other one and repeated the same treatment--kisses, speckling the surface of her breast (now flattened by the tyranny of gravity), before laying one perfect kiss on her nipple, followed by his lips closing around it to suck in earnest. She felt again the deep pulling sensation, a little pleasurable, a little painful. She wondered what other women's nipples were like; hers seemed small to her.

"Just relax," he said to her.

"I am relaxing," she said, giving him a cheery smile. And it was true. She was relaxing, or at least trying to as best she could; it wasn't her fault that all these other things were whizzing through her head.

He gave a noise of skeptical assent, but he didn't stop.

Eventually he tired of her breasts and began to kiss his way down her stomach again. This time he did not detour around to her legs; this time he went straight between them, and for the first time she felt the sensation of his lips on her lips. They felt a little cold and fishy; even his breath, warm against the soft skin of her privates, grew cool where he had kissed. She felt his lips wandering, and then (of all things) his hands reaching up to the insides of her hips, to pull her private parts open (she spread her legs obligingly to give him room). Then she felt kisses--gentle ones, like the wings of a butterfly, more gentle than she'd thought possible--sprinkled across the terrain of her privates. It was ticklish there, but also--and there was no other way to describe it--red, in a strange uncomfortable way; it made her wiggle on the bed, made her feel like the skin of her hips had shifted like a pair of pants. It was a strange feeling, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

He looked up at her. "You're not relaxing."

"What makes you say that?" she said.

"Because something should be happening by now."

"Oh? What?"

Patrick covered his face with a hand.

"Patrick, what should be happening?"

He let his hand fall away. "Does it feel anything when I do this to you? Do you feel anything?"

"Well, yes," she said, "I feel you sucking on my nipple."

"Is there anything else?" he said.

"Umm..." She cast back through the last thirty hours--her entire life's experience with sex. "No, not particularly."

"Not last night either."

"No, umm... Well, when you put it in me, there was feeling. It was... Interesting."

Patrick's eyes screwed shut. " 'Interesting'."

"Honey, what's wrong?" she said, sitting up. (Unnoticed, her arm covered her breasts.)

"I..." He sighed. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Come on, baby, let's go to bed."

"But I thought... I thought we were going to have sex."

"Well, I hoped so too," he grumbled, "but if you're not..."

"Honey, this is what it was like yesterday," she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek with a hand. "We did it yesterday. I don't see any reason why we can't... Why you can't just go ahead and... I mean, we did it yesterday."

He made a grimace. "Maybe we did yesterday, but today it... I couldn't. Not today. Not knowing that..." He sighed. "I mean, look at me, I'm not even hard right now."

She looked and saw that it was true. That was troubling. When they dated, when they kissed... His erection had become so ubiquitous during those times that she'd almost stopped noticing it. For him to be so disenchanted now...

"Look, just... I'll talk to Winston tomorrow, and you talk to Kerri. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, feeling frightened. She'd had no idea that his happiness was so bound up in something she herself could not control. "I'll..." Needing to say something, needing to give him something more: "Anything for you."

He gave a wan smile at that.

"I love you," she said.

"I know," he said. "And I love you too."

"If you love me," she said, "and if I love you, then I don't... Love is all you need for sex, isn't it?"

"Maybe in the fairy tales," he said, and kissed her again.

Because of the church's rules on cohabitation, they had never slept in the same bed during their courtship. It was something she knew she would enjoy--hearing his breathing in the dark, being able to look over and see him when she woke up. And it was comforting to be there, his arms wrapped around her, the warm lub-dub of his heart against her back. But it was a long time before she could sleep that night.



The Honeymoon Ch. 02



In the morning, Patrick engineered an excuse to get Winston alone. It actually wasn't much of an excuse; both of them loved golfing. But the end result was that Amanda had Kerri all to herself. She was scared she'd get all sorts of grilling from Kerri over breakfast, but maybe Patrick had stopped that too: Winston took his wife aside for a palm-cupped comment, and suddenly sex was the furthest thing from Kerri's mind; it was like a personality transplant had happened. Amanda didn't know what the clinical definition of nymphomania was, but she was convinced Kerri was one anyway. But the reckoning could only be delayed, not averted completely; after breakfast and kissing their husbands goodbye, they retreated back to the suite for their discussion.

"So, Winston tells me there were some problems last night," Kerri said.

"Yeah," said Amanda.

She told the whole story from beginning to end--it didn't take long, since of course the whole problem was that nothing had happened. Kerri, to her credit, kept her comments to herself, limiting her responses to nodding and gesturing for Amanda to go on. And once Amanda was done, Kerri stood up and came over to her and wrapped her in a hug. "Oh, you poor thing," she said. "I can't even imagine how I'd feel if I couldn't satisfy my man."

"You were completely right," Amanda mumbled. "You were completely right. Because I can't satisfy him, not... Not like..." Not if her body refused to work the way it was supposed to. "God, I feel so damaged."

"Why?" said Kerri.

"Well, just... Why doesn't my body work right? Nobody else has problems like this when they get married."

"Well..." said Kerri. "Actually, hon, I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?"

Kerri sat down on the sofa next to her. "Well... Do you remember back when you first heard about the birds and the bees, and what was involved?"

Amanda had been ten years old, in a 5th-grade public-school classroom. She had learned via the school district's mandatory sex-ed program. "Yeah."

"Do you remember how weird it sounded?"

"What?"

"I mean, seriously, Mandy. It's a weird thing. A man takes his penis and he does what with it? It gets hard? And then he puts that dirty thing in my dirty thing, and somehow this makes babies happen? How bizarre can you get?"

Now that Amanda thought about it, she could indeed remember having thoughts along those lines. "Yeah, I see what you mean. And I could never figure out just why anyone would want to do that. Like, voluntarily. ...Come to think of it, I still can't."

Kerri poked her gently on the nose. "Bingo."

"What?"

"I think we're getting to the source of your problem."

Amanda tilted her head.

"Did you ever ask your teachers why people would want to have sex? Did you ever ask anyone?"

Amanda shook her head.

"Me neither. Nor did anybody in my classroom. I had a hunch that the teachers wouldn't tell me--I mean, this was all dirty stuff, you know? About private parts. Of course they aren't going to tell me anything. Plus, you know--bunch of ten-year-olds trying to be grown-up, trying to look like they know what's being talked about. You remember how it was.

"But I had an advantage. I was able to learn why people would do it, voluntarily."

"Why?" said Amanda. "Did you do it?"

"No," said Kerri. "I'd been masturbating since the age of seven.

"My mom had told me all the stuff we always get--you know, wipe forward so you don't get an infection, don't let the boys touch, babies come out of there, things like that. When I started my first period in sixth grade, I knew what was going on. But I also knew that my private parts were good for something else. I wasn't sure even my mom knew this about her body... But I knew that, if I touched myself in certain ways, I could make myself feel really good."

Amanda, who was genre-savvy enough to see where this was going, said, "And you didn't think your mom knew about it? Even though she'd had enough sex to have you and your siblings?"

"Well, like I said, I didn't make the connection until later," said Kerri with an artless shrug. "And even then, it wasn't until I had the chance to do some research on the Internet that I understood what was going on. I was wondering what they meant by 'oral sex,' and that led to the clitoris, and-- Well, whatever, you don't care about that part. The point is that, eventually--like, four or five years later--I started to understand why people would voluntarily undergo intercourse."

"Because of the stuff that made you feel good."

"Right. I realized that that response, that feel-good part of my body, would be involved in sex. I realized that sex would--or at least was supposed to--feel good. And that realization was enough to get me into real sex, where I started finding out about the emotional stuff."

"There's emotional--? Never mind, I'll find out about that once I get there, I guess. So, how come I'm broken?"

"Hey." Kerri took her by the chin and made her look up at her face. "You're not broken. Don't give me that crap, Amanda. You're not broken and you know it. That's the whole point--that you're not broken."

"Then why doesn't it work?"

"Well, that's what I just went through a whole storytelling session to explain. I think that it doesn't work because you never had the chance to make that connection. Because that's the thing, the thing that's been such a defining factor of female sexuality throughout all of history: it's completely possible for a woman to go through her entire life without ever having an orgasm--much less a healthy enjoyment of sex."

Amanda felt a surge of indignance--and then a spike of amusement. I was going to be one of those women, without ever knowing I was one. Why am I so angry? "Why is that? What's the difference between a man's orgasm and a woman's?"

Kerri peered at her. "You know men have orgasms?"

Amanda gave her a look. "I'm not that oblivious. I know that a man needs to have an orgasm to ejaculate sperm and semen." She decided not to mention that it was mostly Patrick who had taught her this. That part of her wedding night, at least, she had known about.

Kerri shrugged. "Coulda fooled me." Before Amanda could protest, she continued: "The difference between men's orgasms and women's are that, number one, a woman's orgasm is a lot stronger. Women climax harder. We don't know why, it's just known. The second is that pregnancy doesn't require the woman to climax, only the man. There's no equivalent or whatever where a woman has a physical deposit of genetic material. In fact, if you wanna get down to it, scientists aren't yet sure why women have orgasms. It seems to contribute nothing from a biological standpoint."

"Weird," said Amanda.

"Yeah. Now, quality-of-life standpoint, on the other hand... But that's not really what science concerns itself with. The point that concerns us is that young boys are encouraged to explore their sexuality, or at least not discouraged from it. Young girls, on the other hand, are supposed to keep their hands out of their pants and not know anything about their sexuality at all. At least, until they get married."

"Well, speaking only for myself, that's not working out too well."

"I know. Our culture is backwards about sex in so many ways."

"So, what should I do?"

"At this point?" said Kerri. "I think what's warranted is a two-phase plan of attack."

"Okay," said Amanda. "What's the first phase?"

"The first phase is, we're going to the spa," Kerri said, waving her credit card with a wolfish grin. "W're gonna get you exfoliant and luxuriant and feeling good about yourself. Maybe go do a little shopping too."

"I like this plan," Amanda said, grinning. "What's phase two?"

"Phase two is, we get you some privacy and you start to explore."

"Explore what?" Amanda said.

Kerri fixed a deliberate look on Amanda's crotch.

"...What?" said Amanda, apprehensive.

"Hon, we already talked about the crucial step you missed," said Kerri. "You know that people have sex, but you don't know why because you've never experienced sexual pleasure before. Which is understandable, considering that you've been expressly forbidden from learning. Well, this is your chance. We'll set you up with my vibrator and you'll get to just play around until you find out what feels good. You need to get to know yourself."

"Know myself?"

"You know, like in the Bible? I thought you might appreciate the reference. Adam knew Eve; Cain knew his wife; those girls who knew their dad because that was the only way to get pregnant... They knew each other. Carnally. Biblically."

Amanda said, "My understanding of the matter was that the first person to know you... is supposed to be your husband."

"I'm sure it was," said Kerri, not unkindly, "but, Amanda, look where that got you."

Amanda couldn't argue with that.

"You... You have a vibrator?" she said.

Kerri nodded.

"You brought a vibrator on your honeymoon?" Amanda said, grinning. "What, did you think Winston wouldn't satisfy you?"

"You're one to talk," Kerri said, laughing.

So they went to the spa, something Amanda had never done before. She let Kerri walk her through the process and recommend the various treatments. Amanda herself felt very out-of-place--walking around with only a robe on, having all these people fuss over her--but Kerri urged her to enjoy it, and Amanda had to admit that she had never been pampered like this in her life... and maybe would not be again, for a long time. Kerri walked her through a mud bath, a whirl in a hot tub, and finally a massage that left Amanda feeling as though her muscles had all turned to goo. At least she was getting used to the idea of being around someone while she had no clothes on. Most of them were women, and most of the time she at least had a towel draped over her, but there it was nonetheless.

They stopped for a late lunch, and unfortunately by the time they had gotten back to the room, Amanda had been forced to trade that delicious gelatinous relaxation for a much more rigid stance--one, at least, that was capable of walking. Too, she had begun to work herself into a state of high anxiety over the prospect of masturbation. The simple fact was, she had no idea what to expect, and she didn't like the idea of having to walk in blind. What exactly did a vibrator do? What if it was painful? What if she somehow misapplied it and damaged herself? She kind of wanted Kerri to stay in the room with her... But she couldn't decide which was more embarrassing: having to masturbate, or having to masturbate with Kerri watching.

When Kerri handed over the vibrator it was smaller than she'd expected--a little plastic bullet smaller than the length of her little finger. But even that had its own pitfalls. Was she supposed to put that inside her, like a penis? What if she lost it? How embarrassing would that be? What would she tell a doctor? What would she tell Kerri??

Maybe some of this was clear on her face, because Kerri sighed and put the vibrator on the nightstand. "Amanda, sit down. I want you to just concentrate on breathing..." She felt Kerri's hands kneading her shoulders, shifting deep into the muscle, melting away some of the tension.

"God, Kerri," she breathed. "You're really good at this."

"You pick up some things in life," said Kerri, and Amanda heard the grim smile. "Now, I want you to lie back..." Gentle hands helped smooth her down to the covers. "And, I want you to just relax and be calm. And then, whenever you feel the spirit move you... I want you to just reach down and play around with yourself. Nothing weird, nothing goofy... Just the most natural thing in the world. This is your body--the one God gave you, so that you could please yourself and your husband. Why don't you spend some time getting to know it?" When Kerri put it that way, it seemed so much less... bizarre.

"If you need me, I'll be in my room," Kerri said, and shut the door behind her, leaving Amanda alone.

She wasn't at all sure how she should start this process. Be calm, Kerri had said. Very well. She began by breathing--nothing more, just breathing--and trying to listen to everything that was going on around her. The rough cotton of the bedspread; the whoosh and swish of the waves outside; the cool air-conditioned air on her skin. Her name was Amanda Greer. There would never be in all of human history another person quite like her.

She was a woman. That could mean any number of things, depending on the circumstances. It meant being shorter and having a higher body-fat percentage; it meant being less prone to certain types of cancer, living longer average life spans. It meant not having the vote until the early 1900s, being looked down upon and guarded, not being allowed outside unless chaperoned in some countries and eras. It meant having to endure whistles, jeers, cat-calls, unwanted flirtation; it meant being a second-class citizen in a world that, despite everyone's best efforts, was still a male-dominated society. It meant menstruation, monthly cramps, sanitary napkins; it meant breasts, ovaries, fallopian tubes. It meant being able to bring forth life out of her body, being able to bear children. And it meant a vagina, and it meant a clitoris.

At least I know about those. It could be much worse.

She let her fingers wander over her own body, testing, tasting. What did a man think when he felt what she felt now? Her breasts were heavy, the C-cups so beloved of modern America; she had small nipples but large areolas. If one day she should bear children, she would nourish them from those breasts. Today, though... Well, Patrick seemed to like them; he seemed to like them a great deal.

Her belly was flat, but not as taut as once it had been; she'd been meaning to hit the gym, but never had time before the wedding happened. Below was pubic hair, dark and ruffled, and below that her own feminine secrets. It was funny, now that she thought about it, that she had been so discouraged from exploring her own body. Weren't these her secrets? Why should she ignore them?

Still, she wasn't entirely sure how to go about this whole 'explore yourself' thing.

Her hand down her pants, she began to re-acquaint herself with the geography; half-remembered anatomy lessons floated through her head. Here was the outer padding; down here was her rear; there was her clitoris--ooh, too sensitive. Her opening she found easily enough as well; she was always aware of this area, she realized, but just didn't tend to pay a lot of attention to it. She was sure the same must be true of anyone else.

She felt a little silly, lying here with her hand down her pants. So, after a moment's thought, she shimmied out of them, leaving herself bare from the waist down. A moment later her shirt was off too; her bra followed it, and now she was as naked as she'd been in the spa. She hoped Patrick wouldn't walk in right then; that would be too embarrassing to be borne.

Her fingers continued their walking tour of her body. Now she could spend more time on herself--on the smooth texture of her own skin, the tiny bumps ringing her areolas, the softness of her pubic hair. Still, her main goal was to learn to understand this pleasure thing her body promised.

It soon became clear that just touching her clitoris directly was not going to work: oh, sure, it made her feel something, but those feelings were so strong they were almost dizzying. Did it feel that way to Patrick when his penis was being touched? Or was it because her clitoris was so much smaller?--the same number of nerves being packed into a very dense package. Whatever the case, she soon found that she could achieve something by, not stimulating her clit directly, but by moving her fingers up and down on her mound right near her clit.

That was when she felt it--a tingling sensation that swept through her, faint but unmistakable. She had never felt anything like it before, but she knew instantly that this was what she was seeking. It was ticklish, almost, and a little bit squirmy, but it made her whole body feel alive... And her whole mound tingle. And she knew that, whatever this was, she wanted more.

She began to masturbate in earnest (at least, assuming this was masturbating) and soon she noticed that there was wetness under her hand. Had she urinated on accident? There didn't seem to be enough of it, and when she raised her hand to her nose the smell was not the sickly scent of urine, but rather something more acrid. She decided to ask Kerri about it later. And, as she moved her hand back down, her arm brushed against her breasts and she noticed, almost by accident, that her nipples were tight and hard, as though in cold weather. But it wasn't that cold. The connection was to remember back to that first night with Patrick--all of sixty hours ago--when this had happened too. She'd wondered about it at the time, but decided not to ask; obviously, he'd had other things on his mind, and she too. Now she began to wonder if all this was normal.

Curious, she slipped one finger inside herself, encountering ridges and folds half-remembered from childhood exploration. She noted that her whole area seemed more slippery--and that the moisture she had encountered seemed to be coming from inside her. Of course, she could hardly say with any certainty, but maybe this was her body's way of making intercourse easier. Another thing her classes hadn't covered--when she first heard about sex, she had wondered how this could possibly be comfortable. Would her vagina grow substantially as she passed puberty? It hadn't. Would it be rough and painful to have sex? All in all, it had seemed as though sex must be something you only did to have babies; surely there was nothing else to recommend it.

Boy, was she learning.

Now she had lots of questions, and so she donned her clothes again to go ask Kerri for some help. True to her word, Kerri was lounging in the common area of the suite, reading a book. "Hmm, is that pussy juice I smell?" she cried.

"...'Pussy'?" said Amanda. " 'Juice'?"

Kerri took the hand Amanda had used down below and smelled it. "Yep, that's pussy juice. Amanda, you've come a long way!"

"So it's supposed to make that stuff?" said Amanda.

"Well, of course it is!" Kerri exclaimed. "How else do you make yourself hot and wet for your man! Did you come? Did you have an orgasm?"

Well, evidently there's still a lot more to go, Amanda thought. "No, I didn't wanna strain myself, you know? Like you said, I've come a long way."

"That you have, that you have," Kerri agreed. "But don't forget to try it, hon. It's the best!"

Amanda was sure that Kerri might've dug further, but that was when the men returned--Winston in his plaids, Patrick with his silly visor that she'd always laughed at. They seemed to have had a very productive day, at least as far as the golf chatter seemed to indicate: topics ranged from the consistency of the fairway (excellent) to the quality of the golf clubs available for rent (excellent) to their overall scores that day (excellent, with both of them convinced that, with a little luck, he would've beat the other). They were so excited they could barely sit down; eventually Kerri plunked herself down in Winston's lap to get him to calm down. It seemed to work, and it certainly saved Amanda any embarrassment when she decided to do the same thing. Her explorations in the bedroom had made her suddenly and intimately conscious of Patrick's presence in her life. He had been a perfect gentlemen for the three years of their courtship, and an even bigger one for the three days of their marriage; he had unending patience and a generosity of heart, and she felt sure that, given time and what she'd learned Kerri that morning, he could've brought her to the arousal and understanding she'd gained for herself, but in a lot faster time. As it was, she couldn't wait until they could be alone together and she could put her knowledge to good use. (Suddenly she realized that he must have felt much the same eagerness about her, except for the past three years. This, if anything, only strengthened her resolve.)




The Honeymoon Ch. 02



It was her first real experience with delayed gratification, with wanting something and having to resist that want, and it left her antsy. Despite the beautiful environs, despite the tasty and creative cuisine, despite the gorgeous moon-lit beach which she and Patrick strolled along, her mind was elsewhere. It was so hard to focus when something she wanted was just out of reach! Kerri must've seen, or maybe even Winston, because the two of them retired early; but it was then that Patrick insisted on the beach-walk. She should've been delighted.

"What's going on, honey?" Patrick said to her. "Ever since we got back from golf you've been just on the edge of your seat."

Oh, go figure that he would choose this moment to suddenly become observant.

"Winston had some more ideas about how to... Ease you into things," Patrick said.

"So did Kerri," Amanda said.

"Oh," he said. "Did any of them seem like they would work out?"

"You mean, of the ones I tried while you were gone?" she said.

He stopped short and stared at her.

"I mean, why do you think I've been edge-of-my-seat this entire time?" Amanda said.

"I, umm. I take it you'd like to head back to the room." He was grinning.

"About time!" she said.

For the first time, she was an active participant in the kissing, the undressing, the eagerness. It felt good to be active, to be a part of it, to not be at his mercy. Not that she thought he would abuse his power over her, over her body. But it was nice to be in the driver's seat. It was nice to feel that, for once, she had some control over her fate. Proudly, she presented her breasts to him, and settled in to await that tingling feeling of excitement.

It never came.

"Umm, honey--"

"Keep going!" she said.

But it was no good. He suckled at her breasts, and she tried to make herself relaxed and open, but all she felt was empty. His mouth, his lips, his brassy hair--they did nothing. She even opened her legs and bade him work below, but all she felt was that intense over-stimulation. And then gradually she felt nothing at all, and she realized there were tears burning on her cheeks.

"Baby?" he said. "Baby?"

"It worked earlier," she said, her voice shaking. "It worked earlier but it's not working now and I don't know why and it's not working--" And that was the end of speech, as she flung herself over, face first into the pillows, and wept with rage. She felt his hands gentle on her bare back, and his kisses, and knew that he still loved her--and yet his touch made her feel worse, and she gave an inarticulate roar and felt him jolt away.

Finally, she had cried herself dry. She was cold now, bare in the air-conditioned room. She could hear from his breathing that he had not left her side.

"Well," Patrick said, "if they're listening at the door, they'll have a hell of a time interpreting that noise." It was a lame shot, but she laughed a little. ...And then some more, remembering the noise that had torn loose from her throat. "What did I say, anyway?"

"I'm... not entirely sure. There were vowels, but I'm not sure which, and some of them might have been imported from foreign countries."

She laughed again, and then turned her head back. Patrick was still there. He sat at ease, one knee up, the other arm down to support his upper body, like a statue of some reclining Greek god. A wave of remorse ran through her. He deserved so much more than this. "Baby, I..."

"Shh," he said. "It's okay."

"You probably wouldn't've married me if you'd known it was gonna be like this."

"I told you to shut up once, lady, don't make me do it again." He smiled, and then opened his arms to her, and gratefully she came to his embrace, and felt his heart beat against her breast, and his warm arms around her, and knew that she was the luckiest woman on earth, to be this loved.

"Thank you for having so much patience with me," she said.

"Honey," he said, laughing, "what did I just tell you about--"

"No, sweetie, let me finish," she said. "I... I love you so much. Even if I didn't enjoy it, I would do it for you. But now I can't even do that." She grimaced. "I think I'm defective."

"No," he said, "not defective. Just a woman--a beautiful, normal woman, who is facing some... challenges."

"Chyeah, 'challenges.' More like 'defective training.' God, and I was so sure that Kerri and I had this figured out..."

"What did you guys talk about?"

She outlined the basics of the explanation. Patrick nodded. "That makes sense. There's this weird... assumption going on in American culture that you should just, I dunno, naturally know how to have sex. And, I don't think that's true. I think it is something you have to learn."

"But, shouldn't everything at least work," Amanda grumped. "I mean, getting... aroused and all that."

"Well... Forgive me for trampling on Kerri's theory, but I think there might actually be three phases," Patrick said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. The first one was to relax and get comfortable with your self, right? And the second was to play with yourself and see if it all worked."

"Which it did, so I don't get why it didn't work for you."

"Well, that's just the thing. It didn't work, for me, because... I dunno how to explain it, I went to boot camp instead of college. But... It's one thing to be sexual with yourself, and another to be sexual with someone else. I mean, there's all this... I mean, you take off your shirt, and you're like, 'Oh, god, is she gonna judge me, is she...' "

She touched his bare chest, a comforting gesture. "I would never judge you."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I know you wouldn't, darling. But I know that intellectually. Insecurities, on the other hand..."

"Yeah. Maybe that's... One of the nice things about waiting until you get married. Then, at least, you know you're with somebody who isn't gonna just judge you and then walk away."

"Well, that I don't know about," Patrick said. "One marriage in two ends in divorce nowadays. But that's besides the point. The point is that... I think that's the third step. The first one is being sexual, the second is being sexual with yourself. But the third is learning to engage all that with someone else. Learning to... To overcome all those nerves and insecurities and relax--completely, totally relax--in the company of someone else."

She grimaced. "And you've been telling me for years that I never do that to begin with."

"I can tell you something, my love. Out of the, you know, vast annals of my experience." They sometimes joked that he was some sort of Casanova, having lost his virginity during his first tour of duty, but the truth was that it had been with a prostitute overseas, and of the girlfriends he'd had since, only one had slept with him, and then only a few times, before the break-up. "You can have sex, sure, where, you know, it's an activity. Where you're just doing it for the sake of doing it. But it's when two people are really... Are really open to each other, and are sharing, and don't have any walls up. That's what it's supposed to be like."

"So that's step four," she said. "God, I have a lot of work to do."

"No, maybe more like step three-and-a-half," he said.

"At this rate, it's gonna be, like, months before we get there," she said, feeling tears in her eyes again. Months before they could do it? Months before she could give her body to her husband fully? "I feel so defective."

Patrick was silent for a long moment. "Well..." he said finally. "If... If it's that important to you, there are other ways, you know."

Had it been any other time, she might've accused him of trying to take advantage of her fragile emotional state. Today she merely said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that... There's other ways to share our bodies with each other. To give each other pleasure. To have sex."

"And you want me to..."

"Hon, it's totally up to you. I love you, and I will support whatever you decide is best for you."

It was a set-up. But she felt too wretched to look the gift horse in the mouth. If he was going to offer her a way to redeem herself, she would take it, no questions asked. "Tell me what to do."

"Well... You probably noticed that... While we were trying to make things happen... I would sometimes put my mouth on your... Down-there."

"Okay, and... You want me to put my mouth on my down-there? Umm... I don't know if I'm flexible enough."

"No, that's not what... I wanted you to put your mouth on my down-there."

She decided not to think about the hygienic aspects. "Okay, umm... To what point? Is it just like kissing you in another place?"

"No," he said, "if... If you do it right, I might... Have an orgasm."

She frowned: "Great, another thing for me to fail at."

"No, not at all. First off, Amanda, you need to stop getting down on yourself like that. Haven't we talked about relaxing?"

"That involves you not judging me."

"That involves you not judging yourself either," he said.

She said nothing.

"And second... Well, I don't know why this is, but it's easier for men to have orgasms than women. It's something you can probably learn pretty quickly."

"And if I can't?"

"Then I'll teach you," he said easily. "You're already learning about your own body; you can learn about mine too."

"Aren't I just... Supposed to know?" she said; but even as she said it, she knew it was foolish. "No, of course not. I don't even know how my body goes, and it's my body; there's no way I should be able to know yours."

He smiled. "See? You're learning already."

There were about a thousand things she would rather talk about than her lack of sexual prowess. "So what do I do to you and your thing?"

"Well, you should..." He shrugged. "You should feel free to explore."

"Explore what?" It was a little more caustic than she'd intended.

He shrugged. "Me. Hon, of course there's all this stuff about how a man comes into ownership of his wife, and his body belongs to her. You know that angle of it really well. But the woman becomes the master of her husband's body as well. That's one of the reasons infidelity is such a mess: you're giving to someone else that which isn't really yours to give anymore. We're married. My body is yours, just as yours is mine. Don't you want to get to know what's yours?"

"I'm having enough trouble getting to know my thing," she grumbled, but he had a point. All their explorations had been one way thus far, focusing exclusively on her. It would be a lie to say that getting to know his body was a particular priority for her... But it would also be a lie to say she was indifferent. She was curious. And since they couldn't seem to accomplish anything by exploring her body...

"Is there anything specific I ought to know?" she asked.

"If anything occurs to me, I'll be sure to mention it," he said.

"Well, I mean..." she said. "Can you give me instructions?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Well... Yes," she said. "I mean, what do I know about you?"

He gave her a twisted smile. "Now you see how hard it is for me to have to fumble around blind?"

"Could we maybe not rub that in?" she said, letting real irritation color her voice. "Could we maybe not harp on the fact that it is practically impossible for me to be a good wife in this manner?"

There was a short, tense silence.

"...I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't..."

"No, I'm sorry too," he said. "I won't make fun of it anymore."

"We've been focusing on you, and maybe rightly so, but, you're not the only person frustrated here."

"I know," he said, smiling. "That's what we're fixing tonight."

The reference escaped her; in any case, she decided she had more important things on her mind than to decode his slang. Explore her husband's body? All right.

"...Is... there any specific thing you want me to start with?"

She could see the effort it took him to retain patience. "Just... Trust yourself. Do you trust yourself? I trust you."

And what could she say to that?

She started by kissing across his chest and ribs--at random, letting her lips wander where they would. She had never experienced the texture of his chest before--his skin was tight across his muscles, firm over them in a way she herself, 5'5 and 140 pounds, could not hope to personally achieve. She had always loved his physique, the strength there and the gentleness in his demeanor; to her, he was a man's man, strong without need of posturing, endlessly respectful. She was very lucky to have him, and it occurred to her that she had been taking him for granted all this time. Never again, she decided.

She speckled kisses across his pectorals, his ribs, his shoulders, while he lay docile to her touch--except for one hand, which held hers. On impulse, she decided to kiss his nipples; after all, he'd spent so much time doing the same to her. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect; and so she was surprised at his reaction: a sigh of contentment as he resettled himself on the bed, and letting go of her hand to cradle her head against his body. (Was this what he was expecting from me? God, no wonder he could tell it wasn't working.) She groped with her other hand until she had found his. She wanted to be connected to him for this, to know that she was doing it right.

At a loss, she tried sucking on his nipples, the way he had done to her; she was surprised at his response. He seemed to like it. How could that be? He wasn't a woman; he couldn't give milk. But the simple fact was that he seemed to like it: he made encouraging noises with his breath, and raised his chest to her mouth, and squeezed her hand. When she switched to his other nipple, she noticed that it was hard and distended, as though in cold weather; she remembered her own nipples doing that when she had played with herself, and wondered if this was normal for men and women both. A glance south confirmed that, yes, maybe it was a sign of arousal: his manhood was stiffening, bobbing up and down in time with his heartbeat.

She knew it was going to end up down there eventually, but it still felt wiser to ask. "Do you want me to touch your..." I mean, he could say no.

"Only if you want to," he said. "It's all about what you want."

"Honey, don't bullshit me," she said. "It's about what you want."

"Okay, it's about what we both want," he said. "What do you want, Amanda?"

To make up for the fact that I suck at sex. "I want to please my husband."

"Well," he said, "it would please me if you would touch me there," he said, "but that's just my point. If that makes you uncomfortable, we'll find some other way."

"No," she said. "I'll do it." And--before she could second-guess herself--she put actions to words and reached down to grab him.

She hadn't realized it would be so warm.

"Okay," she said, "this is one of those cases where you have to tell me what to do."

"Well," he said, "if you just move your hand up and down, it will feel good."

She heard the comma. "But...?"

"But... If you use your mouth... It would be even better."

Right. They'd discussed this already, though she'd hoped they wouldn't get to it. He'd said that if it made her uncomfortable... But she'd already committed to doing this. She might as well do it right. "What do I do when you... squirt?"

"That's, um... That's up to you. If you want to just back off and let it go on my stomach, you can."

She didn't even say it this time, just looked at him.

"But... You could swallow it too."

"Let it go in my mouth, and then just swallow it," she said.

"Yeah."

She didn't waste any time with silly 'why' questions. "What's the difference to you?" Since we're doing it for you anyway, she thought, and this time he didn't bother to protest.

"Well... When I'm coming, it feels better if you keep stimulating me."

" 'Coming'?"

"Having my orgasm."

"How will I even be able to tell? Besides, you know, suddenly something squirting in my mouth."

"I'll tell you, of course," he said.

"You'll say something?"

"Yeah, like... I dunno, 'Honey, I'm about to cum.' "

Straightforward enough, she supposed.

She moved south down the bed, positioned herself kneeling between his legs. She had never noticed just how much leg hair he had; but it was nothing compared to the thicket between his legs. She was expected to stuff her face in there? But then she remembered that he had done the same thing to her down-below, and with nary a complaint. That was the whole point, wasn't it?--that he was setting the example which she should try to follow.

Still, it was good to seek his hand. And when she did, she saw him look down at her past his body, and smile at her, and she saw that he knew this was hard for her. And he squeezed her hand, and she felt his confidence in her. And, suddenly, it didn't seem quite as daunting.

One of her hands was in his; the other was free to explore. Gently, she took hold of his shaft. It was a little floppy now (she knew that wouldn't last), and a lot softer than she expected; his skin there was like that of a baby's. She felt its spongy texture, the slickness of the circumcision scar, the little bumps and nodules under its surface. Even as she handled it, it began to grow warmer, firmer, harder. She was surprised that she could have so much impact; she'd barely done anything.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he said: "It's because I love you so much. Anything you do, it's good for me."

So I could mess up and you'd still like it? she thought; but then she decided that there was too much at stake for pride.

He was pretty hard by now, his erection standing proud above his belly; it wasn't perfectly straight, but slightly curved downwards. It wasn't perfectly smooth either; the tip was redder than the rest of it, and bulbous, like a little helmet, with a V-curve underneath and a ridge leading down towards his testicles. She could see a little slot in the tip, and realized that this must be where urine came out--and, unless she was mistaken, semen too, eventually. That was her challenge for the evening: to make semen come out of that little slot. Doesn't sound so difficult. ...But then, neither did all that other stuff.

She brought her mouth closer to the tip of his penis, feeling a moment of hesitation. Would it taste foul? It had been all sorts of less-than-sanitary places. Urine came out of it, for instance. And it had been inside her less-than-sanitary place too. For a moment she merely hovered there, her mouth open, breathing. Then, steeling herself, she moved her mouth down and closed it, ever so delicately, around the tip of his cock.

In the end, she was almost disappointed: it didn't taste like much at all. Salty, a little, with sweat, and the slightly reddish taste she had always associated with skin. But the effect on her husband was desultory and immediate: he gave a breathy little moan, as if he really liked what was going on, and his hips came up a little off the bed. And, best of all, the hand she held gave an involuntary twitch. Yes, he did indeed seem to like what she was doing.

Slowly, she worked the ring of her mouth further down his shaft, expecting him to ejaculate at any moment--what would happen, exactly, when he did? But nothing came, and eventually she reached the point where as much of him as possible was in her mouth. She was dismayed to note that at least half of it would not fit, perhaps as much as two thirds. (She didn't know it, but her husband's endowment had been the envy of everyone in his barracks.) Still, he seemed happy--especially when her tongue came up to touch the underside of his shaft. He actually groaned then.




The Honeymoon Ch. 02



Letting him fall free of her mouth, she said, "Is there something I should do?"

"Well..." he said. "If you move your mouth up and down, I'll definitely have an orgasm."

"What, just... Up and down?" she said. Was that all there was to it?

As if reading her confusion, he said: "Think about what happens during sex. It moves in and out of you, right? Do the same thing, except with your mouth."

Could he have possibly made it seem less glamorous? Still, she did as she was bade.

She fixed her mouth around his shaft and began to move up and down, slowly at first, but then (at the sound of his pleasure) with increasing confidence. She was avoiding the ridge at the bottom of his head, and he told her not to; evidently it was a sensitive spot. It was tiring for her jaw, and somewhat tedious; but she had the sound of his voice to urge her on, his groans, the way his hand moved in hers; his hand stroking her hair and cheek (what little he could reach of it). And, once, when she looked up from her work, the most marvelous sight: his face, eyebrows up, mouth agape, eyes closed; as she watched, she stopped right at the ridge on the underside of his head and sucked, and she saw the way his face moved, the way he lifted up off the bed, as if in pursuit of some perfect thing. The thing she was doing for him. Sex. His pleasure.

It seemed to take forever; but at the same time, it seemed like no time at all when suddenly he said, "Baby, I'm gonna cum. If you-- If you need to stop--"

She had thought about it. But now, in the heat of the moment, with his body and his pleasure at her fingertips, she knew that she could not back away. No, she wanted to ride this through to the end. She paused only long enough to coil up a few strands of hair and slurp back some extra spit; then she applied herself to his penis, with absolutely no intention of letting go.

His breathing was ragged, his hand twitching seemingly of its own accord. She could see his abs rippling as he lurched in response to her movements. He was speaking, babbling almost, as the tide of his pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. "Oh god. Baby, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. It's gonna-- It's gonna-- Oh, oh, ohhh--"

She didn't know what to look for, and probably would've missed it in any case. All she knew was that one moment she was bobbing up and down on his shaft in a calm, methodical manner (despite how much he was bucking under her); the next, there was something warm and slimy in her mouth, and she nearly choked before getting away from him. Fighting her own gag reflex, she watched as his cock twitched in mid-air, stiffening towards his belly; each time it twitched, a gush of white fluid came from it, arcing onto his skin. Each squirt went a shorter distance than the last. This was semen, she realized; this was his seed. The bit of it in her mouth had a salty taste but a nasty consistency, almost like mucus; the rest of it left an acrid smell on the air. She forced it down, hoping he wouldn't ask to orgasm into her mouth often; good intentions or not, she didn't think she could get to like the smell or taste of this stuff.

Though watching him produce it had been kind of fun.

All right, 'fun' wasn't the right word for it; it had been pretty darn cool, knowing she could do such things to him--knowing that her husband's body had been in the throes of some major event, and that she had done that to him. She had never known it could be that fun; now, she had to admit that she looked forward to doing it again. Never mind my own sexuality--it was fun just to give him his! And she knew, then and there, that waiting until marriage had been the right choice. She couldn't imagine doing what she'd just done with someone she only kind of liked; she was glad that Patrick was the only man she'd ever give orgasms to, the only man she'd ever tend in such an intimate way. She was glad that it could be something special between them. And even if he'd had partners of his own before... Well, hers would be special enough for both of them.

"Oh my god," Patrick said. "Baby, are you okay?"

She smiled. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"There've been stories of girls who choked the first time they did that... My god, baby, I didn't think you were going to take it all the way..."

She crawled up to nestle back into his arms. "Well, I thought that if I was gonna do it, I should at least do it right."

"You are the bravest woman I know," he said, moving in to kiss her.

"Aack! Honey, don't kiss me!"

"Why not?"

"Well, I... Some of your stuff got in there!"

"If you're brave enough to get it in there, I'm brave enough to kiss you after," he said. "And if not, I'm not much of a man."

She thought that was pretty silly; he had proved his manhood many times over. But she let him kiss her, and if he tasted himself inside her mouth, he made no comment. Soon after, he rose to clean himself off, and she to brush her teeth; and soon after that, they were asleep. But before she dozed off, Amanda made herself a stern promise: by this time tomorrow, she would reach the point of being able to have sex with her man. No matter what it took to do it.



The Honeymoon Ch. 03



The next morning, Amanda found herself with two dilemmas. The first was how to conquer her sexlessness. The second was what to do with herself all day. She thought her best bet might be to just stay home and loosen herself up all day, but Kerri flatly rejected the idea. "I've got some ideas, but they'll have to wait until later. Besides, you need to relax. You've been stressing yourself out about it too much, Mandy, and sex can't be had in a stressed environment. It's all about relaxing and chilling out. So however you change things, bearing down and concentrating won't help." These instructions left Amanda somewhat skeptical--what was she supposed to do, just drift into sex?--and a little bit nervous as well, since her powers of concentration were all she really had in terms of problem-solving. But of the two of them, Kerri would obviously know much better than Amanda herself would. Her best bet, it seemed, would be to just trust Kerri and see what happened.

Besides, Kerri had something much better to do with the day. She had the brochure ready by the time breakfast was over: "Horseback riding!" And then, at Amanda's skepticism: "Come on, it'll be fun. I'm sure you've done it before, and enjoyed it."

"Yeah, but, I was like fourteen," Amanda said.

"Exactly," said Kerri. "When are you going to get to do it again? The next time you're at a stable, it'll probably be your daughter who's fourteen."

"Oh, god, don't make me think about that," Amanda groaned. She and Patrick were not ready yet; it was as simple as that. Besides, how the heck will we ever conceive?--unless things start going substantially different from how they've been. But she wasn't supposed to be worrying herself about that right now.

"Besides, everyone likes horses," Kerri said, grinning. "Patrick, do you like horses?"

"Umm, sure, I... They're okay, I guess," said Patrick, clearly out of his depth.

"Winston, honey?" said Kerri with a secret grin.

"Sure, horses," said Winston, grinning back.

"So it's settled!" Kerri chirped.

Amanda said aside to her husband: "If this is some sort of plot, it's far too deep for little ol' me."

"It might not be anything of the sort," he said. "Maybe Kerri just likes horses. Besides, you're the one with the My Little Pony collection."

"Those are collectable," she replied haughtily. "They are not toys, they are an investment in our daughter's future."

So that was how they found themselves on a riding trail somewhere beneath a cloudless tropical sky. Amanda had brought sunscreen, and the Kollaths a picnic lunch, and between Winston's Eagle-Scout badge and Patrick's Marines training, they felt confident in their ability to handle any sort of crisis. And Amanda had to admit, it was nice to be out with horses. Hers was a gentle old nag named Spirit, and after Amanda had introduced herself and fed her an apple, they had been fast friends. Winston seemed to have his animal well in hand, and she was completely surprised at how well Patrick managed his horse, a proud gelding named Starblaze; it was Kerri who was having trouble. Her horse Blinkers seemed perfectly happy to ignore her; she was constantly having to rein him in and distract him from munching on vegetation at the side of the trail. As Kerri was easily distractable herself, Amanda thought it a match made in heaven.

Of course, handling the horses was an adventure in itself. None of them, for instance, were entirely sure how to use the hobbles, which left them the alternatives of either learning or eating lunch in the saddle. They learned, and though it took some vigilance and once horse (Blinkers, of course) nearly got away, they finally managed to get settled down for their picnic lunch. They had found a cozy little cove, a beach of pristine white sand ringed with undergrowth and a curtain of palm trees. Someone could come by via boat, or use the same equestrian trail, so their solitude was not guaranteed; but, for the moment, it was just the four of them (well, eight, counting the horses), and it felt like they might be the only people left in the world.

Maybe that had been part of the plan.

"Do you wanna go on," Kerri said, "or do you mind if we just stick around here a little. It's a really nice place. Get your nap on, work on your suntan... Just chill." Patrick and Amanda had no objections, so they spread out and relaxed.

Amanda, after making sure she had a liberal coat of sunscreen on, curled up in Patrick's arms and went to sleep, feeling sinfully comfortable--surely it must be against some law to be able to nap in your husband's arms, under this warm sun, here against the breath of the constant surf. But not too long after she found herself jostled awake, as Patrick excused himself, mumbling something about hunting down coconuts.

Amanda got an elbow under her to look around. Patrick was already shuffling off towards the trees that ringed the cove, sending up a backwash of sand with every step. All four horses were still there, waiting patiently. And Kerri and Winston... A shuffle of flesh, a flash of color; an arm here, a leg there, but it wasn't until she heard Kerri's moan that she flashed to an understanding of what she was seeing.

Then she scrambled to her feet and went after Patrick.

"What are they doing," she hissed.

"Well, if I had to guess," Patrick said, "they're embarking on the next step in our mutual and extended campaign of making you feel comfortable with sex."

"By doing it in front of me?!"

Patrick gave a weary shrug. "I'm sure it all makes sense in Kerri's head. It doesn't in mine, but then, nobody ever consults me on this sort of stuff."

Amanda looked back at her friends. Did they care that she and Patrick could see them? Probably not, or they would never have started. From this vantage point--looking down at them from an angle instead of flat on the ground--it was easier to see what was going on. The bits and pieces of color she had seen were the beach blanket and their cast-off clothing. After getting naked, it appeared that Kerri had simply rolled on her side, her rear facing Amanda and Patrick's towel, and slung a leg over Winston's hip so that...

"That looks kind of fun," Amanda murmured.

"I could've told you that," Patrick grumbled.

She shot him a look. "I thought you were going to try not to be bitter about it."

"Easier said than done," he said. "Especially when your friends start flaunting it in your face like this."

She stepped close to him and drew him to her. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." His arms fell around her as if by rote. "I mean, it's not your fault."

"Do you want me to... Do what I did last night?"

He looked at her. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. Patrick, I'm not making these apologies just to be polite or something. Of course I want to be your lover. Believe it or not, I was looking forward to it too. And it frustrates me that I can't."

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well... I don't need you to do anything right now. But I'll keep it under advisement."

She kissed him. "I wouldn't want anything less."

Back on the beach, Kerri and Winston had changed position again. Winston was now lying on his back, while Kerri straddled her hips. She moved in time with him, his hips rising to meet hers as they moved down. Her hands ran up and down over her chest, his over her back.

"Have you ever done that before?" she asked.

He looked over. "Umm... Can't say I have."

"Would you like to?" she said.

"Well... Maybe not on the beach. Sand would get everywhere."

"It would?"

"Hon, sand's everywhere already," he said. "Now, imagine doing an activity that would cause it to get to every everywhere."

"Ooh," she said. "Okay, consider your point made."

After a moment, he said, "Doesn't it bother you that they're... Doing that? So brazenly?"

"I... I guess it should," she said. "But I know that... I know they're doing it because they want me to feel more comfortable with sex, and I do appreciate that. And besides, it... I mean, I've known for a long time that Kerri is a very... sexual woman, and that she gets up to... Everything. The idea of her doing something unusual... It's lost its power to surprise me. You know?"

"Hasn't lost its power to surprise me."

"I can ask her to stop," she said.

He actually seemed to consider it for a moment, which surprised her. But he said, "No, that... No. Someone should be enjoying their sex life on this honeymoon."

And that just made her feel guilty again. She turned away, her eyes downcast.

"Hey." His arms encircled her; she felt his breath against the back of her head, his chest against her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Don't take it that way."

"Why not?" she retorted. "It's the truth. This honeymoon isn't going the way you wanted, from a sexual standpoint, and I know that. And it's my fault, and I know that too."

"Hon, it's nobody's fault," he said. "These are just the challenges that we're called to face together. And we'll face them. I didn't get married to you just to flake out if one thing went wrong. Remember what we promised? 'For better or worse; for richer or poorer; in sickness and in health.' This is just one of those sicknesses."

She snorted. "Some sickness." But his arms around her were a comfort to her, and his words as well--as he must have intended. He knows me too well.

Down on the beach, Kerri and Winston had reached some sort of consensus. They had rolled over so that Kerri was on the bottom, receiving him; now, as she watched, Winston disengaged and moved up to straddle her chest. She took his penis into her mouth and began to move up and down on it rapidly, clearly intent on bringing him to his orgasm.

"Isn't that weird?" she said. "That was just in her... Down-there."

Patrick shrugged. "Well, some people really like the taste of cum. Maybe she's one of them."

"She's not going to get pregnant that way," Amanda said.

Winston let out a gasp. His whole body seemed to flex forward, his face turning upward as though seeking the face of God; for a moment, he and Kerri were frozen: he in the stiffness of his ecstasy, she as she received him. Then Winston gave a final groan and sagged back on his heels. Patrick watched with a level of detachment approaching amusement. "Do I look like that when I climax?"

"I don't know," she said. "Next time, I'll watch."

He kissed her ear. "You really are serious about this. About the fact that... you want to make it work."

She looked up over her shoulder at him, annoyed. "Do you think I would lie about that? You're not the only person who intends to see this marriage through to the bitter end."

He kissed her. "I'm glad."

By the time the kiss had ended, she had turned in his arms and was facing him, her arms around his neck. They had been this way so many times before, and she had always felt safe here. But now there was more to it. She wished she was ready to make love to him. Sex was one of the ways you showed your husband you loved him, she knew that much for certain, and she had so much love to show him...

"Hey, you guys!" It was Kerri's voice. "What are you doing? And, perhaps more importantly, what aren't you doing?"

They broke the kiss to look back down the beach. Winston and Kerri were coming up to them, hand in hand--still undressed, of course, but perhaps that was to be expected. Winston's penis flopped from side to side as he walked. Kerri, Amanda noted, was a natural blonde.

"Come on, you guys!" Kerri said, beaming. "Don't you feel the spirit move you?"

"If you're concerned about privacy, we can move off a ways," Winston offered.

"Oh, no, it's not that," Patrick said. "We're just not as comfortable with, err, public displays of... boffery."

Kerri and Winston looked at each other. It could not be clearer that they had not expected this response.

"But... Amanda..." said Kerri, helpless. "Don't you... Want to? To, you know... Do it?"

"Of course I do," Amanda said, smiling. "I want to do it--even if only because Patrick wants to; but I want to do it from myself too. But it's just... It's going to need to take its own course."

Winston looked at Patrick. "You're a more patient man than I."

"Oh, it's been tested," Patrick said, smiling. "But I'm not worried. She's not lying, she does want to do it, and that's good enough to start with. And in the meantime, we're developing... Workarounds."

"Oh?" said Kerri.

Amanda looked at Patrick, and saw from his expression that he didn't mind it if she told them. So she told them: "Well, last night I performed oral sex on him."

Kerri stared, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Wow, I've rendered Kerri speechless," said Amanda, grinning. "That takes some doing."

"You-- I can't believe you-- You really-- You did?!" Kerri spluttered. "--Like, all the way?!"

"Yes, all the way," Amanda said, a little irked. "Until he came."

"W-- How-- I don't--" She turned to her husband. "Win, when I climaxed, did it boot me into an alternate universe or something?"

"Oh, come on, Ker, is it really that surprising?" said Winston, smiling at Amanda. "Think of what you know about her. It's Amanda. If there's one thing she takes seriously, it's her responsibilities. And to her way of thinking, being a good lover to her husband is a responsibility. Of course she's going to do whatever she can to make it go right."

"Okay, that's all true," said Kerri, "but you can't blame me for being surprised. When has she ever shown any indication of having, or wanting to have, sexual prowess? Blowjobs are not exactly vanilla sex here."

"Yes they are," Winston said. "They're pretty much standard operating procedure for couples in this day and age."

"No, they aren't," Patrick said, "not if you buy into the theories of sex Amanda does."

"Which is?" Winston said.

"Lie back and think of England," Patrick said.

"That's not true, she doesn't think that way at all," Winston said.

"Think what way?" said Amanda.

"Amanda," Kerri asked her. "If the only benefit to sex was that it pleased your husband, but you didn't particularly enjoy it yourself, would you still do it?"

"Of course," said Amanda, wondering why it needed asking. Didn't Kerri know her by now?

"I rest my case," said Patrick.

"Amanda," Winston said, "do you want to have sex? Of your own self? Not just because Patrick does?"

"Well, yes," said Amanda. "Besides, aren't I supposed to want it? I don't want this to be just something I do. I want to be normal about this."

"Did watching us make you horny?" said Kerri.

"What?"

"Did it make you want to have sex?" Kerri said.

"Did it make you physically aroused," Patrick corrected. "I'm pretty sure that, if there was any wanting going on, it was more of an intellectual thing."

"...Yeah," said Amanda. "I mean, it made me want to have sex, but it didn't make me ready to have sex." She grimaced. "It seems like nothing can make that happen, if last night is any indication."

"Why, what happened last night?" Winston asked.

Amanda gave a helpless shrug. "He tried everything, I tried everything, but I couldn't get... Aroused."

"Well, it didn't help that you were focusing on it so hard," said Patrick. "Sex isn't something you make happen, baby. It's something you let happen. You just... I dunno, drift into it."

She couldn't say that she found that very reassuring.

"Don't worry, hon, I've already got some ideas as to how to make that easier," said Kerri. "So. Now that we've had lunch and I've had my fresh-squeezed dessert, shall we continue on our ride?"

"Seems to me you had quite a ride already," Patrick remarked.

"Oh, thank god, someone was watching!" Kerri exclaimed. "I'd hate to think we put on that show and got sand up in my pussy all for nothing!" She led the way back to the horses, with Patrick shaking his head in amusement as he followed.

It took most of the afternoon to go round the horse trail and get back to the hotel. They made good time, but were hindered by a couple bathroom stops, at least one of which was just another excuse for Kerri and Winston to go get it on. That one was fun, since another set of equestrians came up behind them and then, thinking it a good suggestion, also debarked their horses to go "use the bathroom." Thankfully, the Kollaths were quick on the uptake when they emerged from the brush. They rode off snickering, while Patrick and Amanda traded relieved glances. Still, it was some time before Kerri was able to unveil her new plan.

As plans went, it was an oldie-but-goodie: vodka.

Patrick had to admit to feeling a certain amount of hesitation over the idea. Amanda had very little drinking experience, having preferred to avoid the stuff in college; how was she going to react? He certainly couldn't say. But Kerri had stumbled upon some sort of perimeter of wisdom: all she had to say was, "It might make things easier with Patrick tonight," and Amanda was just tossing them down like there was no tomorrow. By the time their actual meal arrived, she was well and truly sauced. Winston leaned close to him and whispered, "Makes you wish this problem would last forever, huh," and Patrick laughed and made amused noises, but the truth was that he couldn't wait for Amanda to sort herself out. Completely aside from the benefit to himself, it made him sad to see her treating herself with such total disregard.

Still, there were benefits.

Amanda had also been leery of the idea, at first. "What difference is that going to make? If alcohol just makes me willing to do something I wouldn't do otherwise, then I'd have to be drunk every time he wanted to do it." But Kerri corrected her: "No, no, that's not how booze works. It doesn't make you do anything new; it just makes you more willing to do old things. Honey, you can have sex with him. This will just help you smooth over the bumps." And, back in the suite, Patrick had to admit that it was working. Her nerves soothed by liquid courage, Amanda was all over him--and much more willingly than normal. Even when they were just dating, he'd always felt that she was holding back. Now he knew how right he'd been. Because she wasn't holding back now. She was into it, kissing him with abandon, rubbing her body against him, completely unashamed.

"What say we, umm, move this into the bedroom," he whispered to her between kisses.

He'd thought she was out of surprises. He was wrong. "No, why don't we stay?"

"What?" said Patrick.

"What?" said Winston.

"What?" said Kerri.

"I just... I wanna..." She was still peppering his face with kisses. "I want Kerri to be there. If I need to. Ask any questions."

"Whoohoo, real exhibitionist in the making here!" Kerri whooped.

"Well..." said Patrick. "If you really want."

Amanda gave him a smile that somehow set both his nerves smoldering and his heart melting. "Baby, what I want is you."

On the couch, he got her naked and began to work at her breasts, trying to pretend Kerri and Winston weren't there. This was harder than it sounded, because the two of them were standing behind the couch, whispering advice. "Make sure you eat her out," Kerri told him, "make that connection." It was good advice, he had to admit: their whole theory was that Amanda had been unable to classify sex play as something desirable; so now that she was responding desirably, he should make sure the umbrella was extend to cover everything important. But still: Winston and Kerri were there! Five feet away! Looking down at him as he engaged in sex play with his wife! He couldn't help but be weirded out. So instead he concentrated on the woman before him: Amanda. His woman. His wife.




The Honeymoon Ch. 03



He had never been a fan of the supermodel look, and it was his joy that Amanda hadn't fallen into that trap; she was well-fleshed, healthy, with breasts that begged to be suckled. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in places, and on her breasts he could see a delicate tracery of veins. She always claimed she was fat, and nothing he said could ever convince her otherwise. Nothing he did, either, since so much of the vocabulary of physical love had been off-limits until now.

Today it was different.

Today he worshipped at the altar of her beauty. Today, when he showed her that she was beautiful, she believed it.

Amanda, for her part, was in heaven. She was aware that there were things she ought to be concerned about, but they seemed so much less important now. What, after all, was to be concerned about? She was here, with her friends, and with her husband; and she was sharing her body with her husband, the way man and wife were meant to. These were the pertinent facts in her mind; nothing else seemed important. Life had gotten so simple! It was gorgeous, to not have to worry about all those other things. And gorgeous to be here, in the arms of this wonderful man, seeing his face just under her own; watching the smiles on his face as he reacted to her reactions, watching him shift from concentration to satisfaction. Feeling the joyous tingles as he suckled at her breast, feeling the deep pull inside her that seemed to reach all the way down, to that place between her legs that was even now growing damp and hollow, aching with the need to be filled.

Kerri and Winston, seeing that their friends had things well in hand, retired to an armchair to watch in greater comfort.

Patrick began kissing his way down Amanda's body, wandering without plan or purpose. He speckled kisses across the broad globes of her breasts, down in the cleavage between them, back and forth across her soft belly. As he wandered lower, he began to be aware of heat, and of an acrid scent; finally arriving at her pussy, he was surprised (if pleased) to find her already beginning her wetness. He felt a sudden burst of hope: maybe this bizarre plan would work after all. Gently, with infinite care, he placed a first tentative kiss on her pussy.

It was evident to all of them watching: she gave a groan, her whole body coming up off the couch, and her hands went to the back of his head to urge him on. Kerri, gasping in wonder, wrapped her arms around Winston and gave him a kiss. Patrick allowed himself a smile of wonder before returning to the task at hand.

"Take her all the way," Kerri hissed to him, "make her climax," and Patrick agreed. he didn't know when he'd get a chance like this again, so he intended to make the best of what he had now. He had never brought a woman to orgasm before, but he had studied the theory; he was a conscientious man, and (like his wife) took his duties to his spouse seriously. And he had Kerri on hand to give help. If this wasn't enough, nothing would be.

He began by kissing his way around her pussy, familiarizing himself with the territory. Then he began to kiss his way through the individual petals of her pussy: the thicker outer padding, and then the inner lips, thin and delicate. As he kissed, he tasted her nectar, metallic and a little sour--first distantly, and then in greater amounts. He tasted more of it as he repeated his circuit, this time with his tongue laving the skin he had kissed. She was moving under him, her hips shuffling, her body wiggling, and he knew she was trying to get him into contact with her clit. What she didn't know was that he was deliberately avoiding it, so that when he finally did make contact the results would be memorable.

And, indeed, when his lips finally settled around that tender little but, he could've sworn that she almost came right there. He glanced up to see if Kerri and Winston were watching this, saw that they were, noticed in passing that, if you judged by the way they were sitting, they might be doing it right now--Kerri could've easily tucked Winston's hard-on into her pussy without moving much. And he couldn't think why Winston wouldn't be hard at this point; Patrick himself felt practically ready to blow in his pants. Still, he had something more important to do. He wrapped his lips around his wife's clit again; and then, obeying Kerri's whispered instructions, began to flick at it with his tongue as he sucked.

He wasn't sure he'd know it if she came; he was, after all, new at this. But as it turned out, it was easy to know, because she was so noisy. Her moans reached a crescendo; and then her entire body came up off the bed like a rising tide, and he felt a new rush of wetness from her pussy. Her hands on his head clutched at his hair, tangled there; he felt tension flowing out of her body in torrents. And then she collapsed back on the couch, spent, as Kerri and Winston took time out of whatever they were doing to gently applaud.

Amanda was deeply appreciative once he reached her face; she wrapped her arms around him and practically yanked him down on her. "I love you," she was saying, "I love you, I knew you could do it, you are the best husband ever."

"I love you too," was all he could find to say. Was it really that big of a deal? He knew she'd do the same for him--had, in fact, done the same. He didn't see this as being that different.

"Now, I want you to do one more thing for me," she said.

"Okay."

"Get inside me," she said. And she suited words to actions by reaching around between them and finding his cock, still proud and erect. A little bit of fumbling later, and he was at her entrance. "Do it, darling. Do it now."

And who was he to refuse his wife?

Kerri and Winston were indeed fucking; she had slipped him inside her without much particular fanfare; she didn't need him to be moving, just to be inside her. This was not the first time they had done this; sometimes, in fact, they placed him inside her during other activities--watching TV, reading books--just to have the contact; just to know that they were connected in that perfect, private place. Today it was nothing like that, of course; watching Amanda's unself-conscious enjoyment had turned both of them on immensely, and they had been fucking slowly as Patrick brought his wife to orgasm. Tonight it was a game, and a very pleasant one--to bring Winston to the edge of climax and then hold back, drawing out their fucking as long as possible. But now Patrick and Amanda were up to something, and it distracted them from their own pursuits.

Kerri could see Amanda reaching between her and Patrick, and knew what must be going on. A moment later, Patrick's hips began to settle down, and she watched in amazement as their expressions changed, so simultaneously they seemed to belong to one person: eyes closing, eyebrows raising, mouths falling open, heads tilting back. They breathed out a sigh together, their voices falling in unison. And then, as his hips met hers, they opened their eyes together, their faces filled with wonder, and leaned together for a kiss.

Kerri stared, the penis inside her almost forgotten.

She knew what sex between her and Winston looked like, because they had done it facing a mirror more than once; she and Winston liked athletic sex, liked to find new ways to drive each other wild with pleasure. What she was seeing from Patrick and Amanda was something completely different. They moved slowly, kissing often, their bodies intertwined; she had her legs up around his waist, her arms hooking around his shoulders. Was it because Patrick had a short fuse?--that would be expected, to go straight from dinner to sex without stopping to pee, and without a blowjob to take the edge off first. But Kerri didn't think it was that at all. She thought it was more that they were too happy to fuck. After all, hadn't they been working towards this moment for four days? Of course they would rather enjoy it than blow it all on an orgasm. She watched them kiss, watched her stroke his face, watched him nibble at her ear and bury his face in her hair, and felt a strange hollowness inside.

Though Amanda was well and truly plastered, she knew enough to realize that Patrick wouldn't last long inside her. She wished something could be done about that, because one thing was clear to her: she loved this. She was underneath him, his entire weight on him, but she was bearing up; she was his support, his foundation. She could feel his leg hairs against her buttocks, his hard abs against her stomach, the strength in his arms that held him up above her; she could look up to see his face hovering over her, caught between concentration and a bliss that threatened to engulf him; she could feel his penis, hard inside her, so warm, pushing deep within her, splitting her open in a way she'd never imagined possible. She had all but forgotten about the others in the room; her focus was only on him. She felt completely naked, and yet completely unashamed; she was free, freed of all anxiety and insecurity, caught under him and yet completely inured to any hurt or injury; she felt whole for the first time in her life, felt a completeness on a fundamental level that she had never even realized she inhabited. And she wasn't caught under him either; she had chosen to be here, to give herself to him, to be the woman who bore him. This was where she wanted to be: under him, serving him, holding him up, held up by him; giving herself to him completely, and being given to in turn. For there were no walls between them now, no barriers of his making or hers (mostly they had been hers); she could feel his heart beat against her chest, and knew that he felt the same. They were married; they were, so long as they were joined this way, one flesh.

"Do you want to move?" she said to him. Or maybe she breathed it. Or maybe she thought it. There was no telling right now.

He smiled. "If I do, it'll end."

She drew him down to her, feeling herself mold to him; in her mind's eye she saw herself as some primordial clay, shaping herself to him, wrapping herself around him. "It'll end," she breathed in his ear, "but that's okay. We have something to look forward to for next time. We know where we can be and what we can do. The door is open." And, exerting control she didn't know she had, she squeezed his manhood with her vagina (where had she learned to do that, anyhow?), knowing instinctively that it would bring him closer to the edge, that he had no counter for it. "I want you to come inside me," she whispered. "I want you to make me your woman."

He did.

It only took three more thrusts before he was gone. She knew it wouldn't last, and focused herself (Darn this alcohol-induced distraction!) on enjoying what she could. She felt his penis withdrawing and returning within her--the marvelous feeling of his shaft slipping in between her lips, of the ridge behind his cock head pressing against her inner walls. She felt his body come into contact with her clit as he bottomed out, feeling the ripples and shocks of pleasure. She felt his warm breath on her skin, heard its whoosh and bellow. She felt the way his body tremored between her legs as he came, the way his buttocks clenched with each rush of seed, the feeling of warmth and wetness inside her as his semen poured out in a gush. And, as he gave his final grunt and pushed deep, she opened her eyes to see his face--the tightening, the focus, the chase; the way pleasure burst forth across his face, dissolving the knots of tension there; the way he sagged against her in total relaxation, his heart thundering, his body limp like a warm blanket. And she kissed his face and whispered to her how good he felt, and how much she loved him, as he gave himself up to pleasure and surrendered to her body.

After a time, they became aware of other noises and other movement. Winston was still in the armchair, and now Kerri had straddled him and was driving them both to climax. Kerri was yelping at every downstroke, and Winston's breath was rough upon the air; his hands were at her breasts, cupping, twisting, while hers sought balance at his shoulders. She might've come first; Amanda had no way of telling. She only knew when it ended because Winston's voice scaled up the octave, open-ended cries that suddenly went still; and he pushed himself up into his wife's body as she held completely still over him, and Amanda was surprised to note that she could see his testicles move up, see the base of his shaft twitch with each squirt of semen. Finally he collapsed, spent, and Kerri wiped sweat from her face before turning to look at them. "Sorry, but we got kind of, umm... Inspired." And Amanda laughed and told them it was okay.

They curled up together in bed like spoons, she sheltered in the arc of his body, feeling his breath in her hair, his warm rough palm on her breast. She felt sacred, and warm, and more cared-for than she ever had in her life. Only one major fear penetrated her alcohol- and orgasm-soothed brain as she dropped off to sleep: what about tomorrow? Would any of the things that had worked tonight still apply tomorrow? It was a tense, worrisome thought, and she could not help but wonder over it before sleep finally claimed her.



The Honeymoon Ch. 04



She awoke to soft light and the tweeting of birds.

Their hotel room was facing the wrong way to see the dawn, but she could see flickers of motion outside: birds hopping around, some people down on the beach in the blue pre-dawn, and even the roll and drag of the waves outside. Their bedroom had a balcony, and she realized they had never used it. Gently she disengaged herself from her husband's arms (noting in passing his erection nestled between her legs--why was he erect now, while asleep?) and padded out onto the balcony. She hoped no one decided to look in her direction: she still wasn't wearing any clothes.

Inwardly she marveled at herself. She had overstepped more boundaries in the last twelve hours than in the whole rest of her life combined. Not only had she finally managed to do it with her husband, but she had enjoyed it. And, she had done it with her sister and brother in the same room. --While they were doing it! This wasn't the sort of thing a normal woman did, was it? Compared to that, venturing outside in the pre-dawn cool without clothes on seemed a minor transgression. And, she had to admit, it felt good to be out in the open air. She could feel the breeze everywhere.

She took stock of what had happened since the last time she woke up. The whole point of this exercise had been to get her to be intimate with Patrick; and, though it had taken three days of effort, she'd finally succeeded. In retrospect, she wasn't entirely sure why it had been so difficult. What was to stress about? It was just another form of sharing, wasn't it?

But at the same time, she understood her own hesitation. She had been thinking of it as solely as a physical exchange, something that she would do for him (and to have babies) but for no other major reason. When Kerri had told her there was an emotional component, she hadn't understood at all. But she'd seen some of it when she first used her mouth on Patrick; and now that she had finally done it with him, it all made sense to her. There was so much more to it: being the seat of his pleasure, seeing his face, feeling his body tremble in her grasp. And then on top of that were the physical sensations itself. Kerri had been right, she'd never been able to make the connection between the physical joys of sex and the emotional content--nor between the physical joys and the physical activity. Boy, she'd been a mess. Good thing we finally got it all worked out.

Of course, all these thoughts were beginning to make her body tingle. Or maybe it was the breeze. Or maybe it was the thought of her husband, lying there unattended, with an erection all ready to go--one that, maybe, she could take advantage of. Silently, she slid back into the room.

Patrick had rolled onto his back in the short time she was gone, the arm that had sheltered her flung out to the side. She stood next to the bed for a moment, trying to contemplate how to do this. She wanted him to stay hard, but she knew that she would need to get worked up, at least some, before she could receive him--which was what she wanted. She could always masturbate, she supposed... But she wanted him awake and participating, if possible. How was she going to do this?

Fortunately, he solved the problem by blinking awake as she climbed up on the bed. He saw her, and his eyes lit up with a smile, and she realized how she must appear: on her hands and knees, crawling towards him, her breasts hanging down. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," she said, and draped herself across him.

They kissed for a little, but it wasn't long before she was peeling back the covers to get at his body, to kiss at his nipples. And soon he was reaching up to play with her breasts, to cup them in his palms. And soon she was reaching below to find his erection, still proud and warm and waiting; soon he was reaching below to find her secrets, the soft skin there, the crinkled hair and delicate petals. When his hand reached it, she gave over her pursuit of his erection and let him work--his fingers gentle, massaging the skin of her underside, sliding in between her lips, probing her entrance and then finally--finally--making contact with her clitoris, with that tender little bud that made her feel so good. Soon she was wet and wanting, her nipples tight, her loins tight too--tight with need, with the need to be filled.

She could see the surprise in his eyes, the questions, and she knew they were valid; but she decided not to engage in them. This was a horse she would not look in the mouth. Instead, she led his hand away, and then moved to straddle him the way she had seen Kerri do. A little manipulation, and he was poised to strike; then she sank down on him, bringing him in as deep as he would go.

It took a few tries before he was fully seated inside her, but soon she had him all; her buttocks rested on his hips, and their pubic hair made a mesh between them. It was a different feeling to be on top of him: completely aside from the matter of not being under him, his manhood was entering her at different angle, pressing against the front wall of her passage while the root brushed her clit. Tall and erect upon him, she felt brazen, like a proud-breasted amazon with nothing to be ashamed of. And what did she have to be ashamed of, anyway? Nothing here.

She leaned down to kiss him, feeling the way he shifted inside her, pushing at her walls, touching off corners and crevices she didn't know she had. His arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer to him, one hand stroking through her hair. "I wanna do this every morning," she breathed.

He chuckled a little. "Well, I wouldn't object. But... Next time at least give me a chance to go pee."

"Why?"

"It... Men don't last as long when they have to pee. That's why we're hard in the morning: having an erection locks off the bladder so you can't pee."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind for the future," she told him with a smile. "But for now, how close would you say you are?"

"Umm... Pretty," he said, chuckling.

"Good," she said. "Then hold on tight, honey. I'm gonna give you the cum of your life."

"Umm, sweetie..." he said, catching her with a hand. "It doesn't... It doesn't have to be about me."

She kissed him. "No, it doesn't. But this time, I want it to be." And he said nothing as she withdrew and prepared to ride him to orgasm.

He was right; it didn't take long. But it was long enough to be good. She felt the flexion in her thighs as she moved upon him, up and down, and then back and forth as she found a better rhythm, letting the distance do the work for her, caressing his length with her passage. She grasped his hands in her own, using them to balance as she moved. His hips rose to meet her at every downstroke, their bodies rocking together in perfect rhythm. She felt her nipples tight in the morning air, her breasts upturned; his eyes on her, devouring her body. She heard his low moans, his gasps, the sounds she drew from him to mingle with her own; she felt the way his manhood twitched inside her with each intense burst of pleasure, felt the way she clenched down on him when he hit a perfect spot. And above all she felt his penis within her, that magnificent massive thing--rubbing past her clit with every motion, his head pressing its way in and out, the pressure on the back wall of her vagina as she used her hips to stroke him, maneuvered him inside her to touch every perfect spot, driving them both onward towards their pleasure.

She saw in his eyes when it was about to happen, and she let go of his hand to reach between them. A moment of searching, and she had found his testicles and the base of his shaft, to cup them gently: what she had seen last night, she wanted to feel today. And felt it she did, as orgasm rushed through him: she felt the wrinkled skin of his scrotum contract, and then the muscular contractions in his shaft (and even down into the patch of skin between his balls and his anus), the pulsing tension there, feeling it happen there in her hand as he groaned and pushed up into her, holding himself there as his pleasure overwhelmed him, as his body clenched and his manhood throbbed within her, letting loose its seed, filling her with the warm white consummation of their love.

She moved back down and kissed him on the cheek. "That's how I should've been greeting you every morning. Hopefully today makes up a little for the last few days."

"Oh god," he gasped. "Oh god. Baby, if that doesn't make up for it than nothing could." He pulled her down to kiss her again, and this time pulled the covers over them. And so they snuggled, kissing in the early morning light, his penis still seated deep within her.

He was still there when she woke up next. The sun was up properly by now, and there was light coming in through the windows, and more noise. She had fallen asleep sprawled atop him, and evidently he still needed to pee, because he was still hard within her. It was a different feeling, to have him inside her when she wasn't really aroused: there was still moisture there, perhaps left over from their previous bout--Her moisture? His? Then again, how would she tell?--so it wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't precisely nice either. She was intensely aware that there was something inside her--and not in a sexy way. She stirred a little--despite all, she didn't want him to leave her.

"Hmm," he said, "good morning."

"Good morning." She smiled and kissed him. "It's good to wake up this way. In your arms." She giggled. "Even your penis is still inside my vagina."

He gave her a look. "You know, you don't have to call it that."

"Oh?" she said. "Why, what should I call it? I think 'peter' sounds silly. And so does 'wee-wee'."

"You could call it my dick," he said. "You could call it my cock."

"Your cock?" she said, giggling again. "Oh, great, and what animal name does my part have?"

"Umm, pussy, actually," he said.

"Those don't match at all," she said. "What does a cock have to do with a pussy? One's a mammal, one's a bird. Couldn't they have at least got that right?"

"Well, you could call yours a flamingo if you wanted," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Right, that's attractive. But in the meanwhile..." She wiggled her hips. "Now that your, ahem, cock is in my flamingo--or pussy, or whatever--what do you think we should do about it?"

"Well, if you're planning a wake-up session like earlier, first I wanna go to the bathroom," he said.

She shrugged, remembering his earlier comments. "I suppose I could let you do that." Carefully, she disengaged from him, extracting his penis--cock--with care before climbing off him.

"And then," he said as he rose, "we're gonna do this properly."

"Do what properly? Pee?"

He looked at her with a smile. "You and me."

When he returned he took control of the situation, immediately moving to cover her. Almost without preliminary he moved to her breasts, licking her nipples, and then nibbling them, and then sucking on them; she moaned, feeling the resurgence of heat down below as his attentions caught her attention. When he reached below, she knew he would find her wetness already beginning, and was glad.

"It... Seems to be working," he said.

"It does," she said.

"What do you think the difference was? I mean, you're not drunk now, are you?"

"Umm... I dunno." It was strange to be having the conversation; and it was strange to be having this conversation now: she on her back, one knee up, while he reclined on his side, his semi-erect penis (cock?) flopped sideways and slowly beating to life, one arm under her shoulders and the other hand between her legs, covering her whole area (pussy area?) to taste her wetness; both of them stark naked. "I dunno. No, I'm not drunk now. But..." She reached up to trace his jaw line with a finger. "I think was just getting past the insecurities. You saw me--I was working myself up like crazy, trying to... I mean, it was like this mental block in my head. I just couldn't get over what was happening--or rather, what was not happening."

"Insecurities," he said.

"Yeah. I was just... I mean, you know me. I was focused really hard on the idea that I needed to get, you know, turned on... And that focus just kind of, you know... precluded it."

"Yeah. You were concentrating so hard that it couldn't happen."

"You'd think that was backwards."

"No, not really. Sex is something pretty subtle. You have to be open to letting it happen. If you focus on other things..."

"Then how come things are happening now?" she said. His fingers were still at work, gently massaging her area and sending gentle shocks through her body.

"Because you're not concentrating," he said. "You're relaxed, and we're just having idle conversation. And besides, you know now that you don't have to concentrate so hard, that it works better if you just..." His hand did something, and she shuddered with pleasure. "Relax..." He did it again, and breath left her in a gasp. "And let me take care of everything."

She twined her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. "I will."

It took her a little while to really understand what was going on down there, but eventually she realized he had slid two fingers inside her, and was using his palm to stimulate her clit. He knew what he was doing, no question about that; pleasure coursed through her as his hand pressed against her, his fingers probing inside her. Soon she was squirming, her body arcing up off the bed as she pressed her clit down into his hand; her vagina (pussy?) clenched with each tremor. He was still kissing her, his lips showering her face with little butterfly kisses; she tried to respond, but there was too much going on for her to focus. With each tremor of her body she felt as though she was trying to squeeze him out of her, that every movement of his hand against her was channeling some sort of force or energy into her... an energy that would soon become too much to contain.

Finally it was there, and she felt herself shudder; the tension knotted inside her to the breaking point, and then burst open, flooding her with release. She felt it rushing out of her, flowing out onto his hand through her clenching pussy; and even as she came he did not stop, but kept up his ministrations, driving her even further into her pleasure. When her body had finally exhausted itself she fell back down to the bed; and when she opened her eyes she understood why he had not used his mouth as he had before: so that he could see her, watch her face as she came; and so that when she was done, his face would be right there for her to kiss.

Of course, it wasn't just kissing that she had in mind. Even as her lips met his, she was reaching down for his waist, trying to bring him over her. He didn't understand at first, but eventually she managed to herd him into position--between her legs, over her, poised to strike. Then she reached between them and guided him in.

He sunk to the hilt in one go.

She wanted to be his, all his; with her hands she urged him higher up her body, until their hips were practically parallel and his chest towered over her face. The position had an advantage she hadn't expected: every movement caused his cock to rub against her clit, sending spikes of tingling pleasure through her. Of course, because of the position, it was harder for him to thrust, but she solved the problem by bringing her legs up, giving her more leverage to meet him. It took some trying, but soon they had developed a rhythm as they rocked back and forth. It was gloriously good: she could feel his muscles flexing against her, hear the thunder of his heart when she pressed her ear against his chest; his arms encircling her head, the wonderful weight of his body pressing down on her. And, because of their position, their movements were limited; they rocked back and forth, her body caressing his erection, he stimulating her inner walls, but he could not move out, he was trapped within her. It was not a limitation she had any cause to regret.

He lasted quite a lot longer than he had the first time; what surprised her was when she came too. She could feel the tension build in her, feel her muscles contracting involuntarily, clenching around him and his wonderful cock; her breasts were his pillows, her nipples pressed against him; his weight bore down on her, a wonderful pressure as she nipped at his collar bone. And then suddenly it was there, and she was moaning, her head falling back as pleasure overflowed her, her pussy clamping, her chest heaving, her body shuddering in release. And then he gave a moan as well, and she felt him push deep into her, felt the clenching in his body, the twitching of his cock, the rush of his breath, the warmth of his seed. And then they collapsed together, limp, protoplasmic, draped over each other in exhaustion. She felt dissolved, as though she had no shape or form anymore, just a gelatinous goo for him to fall into; his strengthless form felt much the same. "I love you," they breathed, "I love you."

And they might've fallen asleep again right there, but Kerri knocked on the door and said, "Hey, you guys, are you coming down to breakfast?" And Amanda mustered all of her strength and replied, "Yeah, we'll, we'll be out in just a minute." It was a little longer than a minute, actually, but finally Kerri had herded them through the buffet line and to the breakfast table.

"You guys seem a little slow today," Kerri said. "Did you get enough sleep? Did something happen after we went to bed?"

"What?" said Amanda. "Oh, no, no, it wasn't... Nothing like that. We just..." She looked at Patrick.

"We were, umm. Enjoying ourselves," Patrick said. "When you knocked. --Well. Rather, we had just finished enjoying ourselves."

Kerri exchanged an eyebrows-raised look with Winston. Winston said, "So, what happened last night: it stuck?"

"Yeah, it's still... It's still in effect." Amanda gave a shy smile.

"So you can...?" said Kerri.

Amanda nodded.

Kerri gave a squeal of delight and sprang forward to hug her. "I'm so happy for you! Isn't it great? Isn't it awesome to be able to, you know, to be there, and to make your man feel so good?"

Amanda, feeling a bit overwhelmed, laughed and said, "Well, yeah, it... I mean, I knew it would be good; I knew I would enjoy making him feel good. But I didn't know it would make me feel good too."

"You've come a long way," Winston said, smiling. "I mean, this time a week ago you weren't even married."

"I know, I didn't... God, I thought it might take me months to get over everything," she said.

"And you have me to thank," Kerri chirped. "Me and Absolut. Alcohol to the rescue!"

After breakfast, Kerri wanted to get started immediately: she had found a tour of the island's cultural-heritage sites, statues and meeting places and old palaces. It looked fun. But first Amanda and Patrick insisted that they needed to take a shower, since their normal morning ablutions had been displaced by sex. Patrick suggested that they shower together, to save time. Amanda agreed, and promised herself to be efficient. But he was right there, his warm tall body, his broad shoulders and even his manhood, looking bigger than ever now that water was plastering down his pubic hair... Well, how was a girl to resist? She knelt in the water to suck him to life; she had every intention of finishing, and maybe even swallowing, but instead he picked her up (He picked me up!!), braced her against the wall, positioned himself at her opening and began to thrust. It didn't take him long, but it was astounding to her just how good it felt--maybe in part because she was completely at his mercy, with only his arms and his body and the cold tile of the shower wall keeping her aloft. And his cock. His wonderful hard cock inside her, lifting her up all on its own (or so it seemed). When they finally emerged, Kerri gave them a smirk, and Patrick and Amanda looked at each other and realized they might not have been quite as subtle as they'd intended.




The Honeymoon Ch. 04



The rest of the day was much the same. The tour guide was wonderful, a mountain of Polynesian flesh with a pleasant face and a lot of funny jokes about the island, the flora and fauna, its architecture, its history and (of course) the tourists themselves. But the bus was air-conditioned and rumbled around at what felt like three miles an hour, and there was only so much attention-keeping one tour guide could do. She and Patrick spent most of the trip canoodling: kissing, touching, whispering, giggling, and occasionally even letting hands wander where hands shouldn't wander in public. She felt like a high-schooler--or, at least, what she imagined a high-schooler would feel like, since during her actual high-school years she had been a model of propriety. Was she still drunk? It felt a little like it. There were things hovering on the periphery of her consciousness, a knowledge that she should pay attention and show some modesty... But these things seemed unimportant, easily dismissed, when set against to the fact of her lover, and his body, and his presence beside her. She was with Patrick. Nothing else really mattered to her right now.

As the tour bus approached their hotel, their hands got friskier, to the point that (probably) anyone who looked would have noticed what they were doing. By this time Amanda was melting with pent-up lust; she practically dragged Patrick back to their suite. Or maybe he dragged her. Once they got to their bedroom, the door closed behind them, he yanked down his pants, pulled her panties aside (she had worn the really cute skirt he liked), bent her over the bed and simply plunged in from behind. He thrust with abandon, their skin making a wet slapping noise with each impact. Her face was digging into the bedspread, her hands knotting the fabric; her breasts swung with each thrust; he rammed into her, the angle different, stroking into new places inside her, making her muscles quiver with pleasure. She felt unleashed, like an animal in heat; her bottom was upturned into the air, and she realized he might be able to see her anus. The thought only turned her on, and suddenly she was exploding on his cock, her body squeezing down on him as he groaned too, and stiffened, though he didn't stop moving, and spent himself inside her, seeding her with his cum.

When they emerged, their hearts still racing, Kerri and Winston were reclining at ease on the couch. "Had your fun then, I hope?" said Kerri with a smirk. "Because I want dinner, personally."

"Sorry," said Amanda, feeling sheepish, "it's just..."

"You're enjoying yourselves," said Winston, "and each other. Nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't really realize it was going to be this good," Amanda said.

"Do you climax?" Kerri asked.

"Sometimes," said Amanda. "But I don't mind it if I don't. It feels good anyway."

"Wait, hold on," said Kerri. "Are we talking about, during sex here? I mean, actual intercourse?"

"...Yes..." said Amanda, confused. "Why?"

"You can climax from sex?" Kerri exclaimed.

"...Is that unusual?" said Amanda.

"Just a little," said Winston. "What's the statistic?--only one woman in four can achieve it consistently. Or was it five?"

"Wow, I, I didn't know I was so talented," said Amanda, giggling a little.

"Well, that explains why she's going so crazy," Winston said.

"Oh, give her a break," said Kerri. "She's just discovering it all for the first time. It's pretty intoxicating."

Amanda had to agree. Throughout dinner she tried to pay attention to Kerri and Winston; she felt bad for having ignored them, and for being so wrapped up in Patrick. It was harder than she expected. But she did honestly feel bad. And besides, there were so many interesting questions to ask.

"Seriously? Most women don't have orgasms from sex?" she said.

"Seriously," Kerri said.

"Why not?"

"It's because of the way women are designed," said Winston. "Men have orgasms by stimulation of the penis, right? Well, on women, the equivalent is the clitoris. Starting to see any problems here?"

Patrick said, "The clitoris isn't in the vagina."

"How come you know more about my body than I do," Amanda grumped.

"Well, when's the last time you got face-to-face with your down-there?" Patrick said.

"...Fair enough," she said. Or unfair enough, as the case may be.

"And on top of that, it takes the average woman four times longer to have an orgasm than it does the average man," Kerri said.

"Seriously? Four times?"

"How'd they come up with that figure?" Patrick asked.

Winston shrugged. "Probably just by comparing masturbation times, the assumption being that the person who's best at getting you to climax is yourself."

"Which is not something all women do anyway," said Amanda. That much she knew.

"Hmm," said Kerri. "So it might be biased because the only women who participate in the study are familiar with their own sexualities to begin with. The actual average, the one that includes women who are still repressed by society, might be quite a bit longer."

"Well, hold on," Winston said. "Isn't it the same bias with men? Only sexually liberated men participate in these studies too."

Amanda knew the answer to this one too. "Yeah, but there's a lot more men who are sexually liberated than women. Kerri and I talked about this. We--" She indicated Kerri with a tilt of her head. "--are discouraged from exploring our bodies, even though we're the ones who need it most. Whereas you guys..."

"If we aren't wanking off every night," Winston said, "they think something's wrong with us."

"Whereas there's something wrong with us if we're wanking off at all," Kerri said.

"Weird," Patrick said.

"I think it's a real mess," Amanda said. "I mean, how backwards is that? Kerri's considered weird for having a healthy interest in her own body. And not just any part of her body--the part of her that's most important, because it lets her have children. She's interested, and that's considered weird. And then I... Well, I went with the pressure. I did what was expected out of me, and kept my hands out of my pants. And what do I get? A lot of frustration because, when the time comes to 'switch on,' I can't, and then I feel like a failure because I can't please my husband in bed. Whereas Kerri is made to feel like a failure because she can. Who came up with this nonsense!"

"Idiots," said Winston.

"The patriarchal domination of culture," Kerri proclaimed.

"Necessity," Patrick said.

They all looked at him.

"Okay, look, guys," he said. "When I first got in the armed forces, I thought there was a lot of stupid shit going around--all these customs and traditions and practices that you obeyed just because you always had. Obviously, I didn't say anything, or I'd get my sergeant's boot shoved up my ass, but I thought it was all pretty stupid. But as time passed and I got further into my training--and especially once I got to active duty--I started to understand that all these things they had told us to do were actually to our benefit. Why do you wanna do it that way? Because we tried it the other way, and we know this way works best because the guys who tried it the other way, died because of it. And so, as more and more things were handed to me that I was supposed to take on faith, I got into the habit of assuming that there was a good reason for doing it that way, which I might not know right now but would find out about later. And heck, sometimes I could even get a sergeant to explain it.

"I think that's true of all the rest of life too. I think we try things, and they work, and if they don't work they get phased out. And that means that all the customs and taboos and laws we have in our culture--everything--is there for a reason."

"What, even discouraging women from exploring their sexuality?"

"Yes, even encouraging women to be sex-negative," Patrick said.

Kerri frowned, but Winston laughed: "Oh, I get it: the opposite of sex-positive."

"What possible benefit could it have?" said Kerri.

"Well, under what circumstances is it a good thing for a woman to abstain?" Patrick asked.

Amanda said, "When you don't want her to get pregnant."

Patrick nodded, but Kerri said, "No, abstinence isn't the answer in that case. Contraception is. Put her on the pill. Or Depo-Provera, like you and I got last month."

"Ah, but, there's the thing," Patrick said. "Are those available?"

"Well, duh," said Kerri, "there's a drug store on this island somewhere." "No," Patrick said, "not now. Were they available back in the day, when people were first deciding whether to encourage women to be sex-negative."

Kerri blinked a few times, clearly adjusting her thought patterns.

"Imagine we're back in the Stone Age," Patrick said, "when you lived in like groups of 50 because there just weren't that many people to begin with. You've got two tribes here. Tribe Alpha embraces eternal sexual freedom and encourages its members to experiment sexually with themselves and each other. The other tribe, Tribe Bravo, embraces the sex-negative lifestyle we all know and love. What happens in ten years?"

"Well, Alpha Tribe is going to have a lot more children," Amanda said.

"No birth control, just teenagers doing whatever the heck they want..." Winston nodded. "Yeah, a lot more children. And maybe lower health standards too, if people are doing ass-to-mouth."

"Doing what?!" said Amanda. Was that what it sounded like?

"Aaaand let's move on!" Kerri said. "But Patrick, what's wrong with having lots of children? That's what the human race has been doing, isn't it?--expanding the population."

"Yes, it's good to have children," said Patrick. "But is it good to have too many children? And, even worse than that, children whom you aren't ready to raise, because you're a single unwed mother? With an infection, because you did ass-to-mouth, and maybe an STD too? And you're not the only one, because all your peers are also caught up in this nonsense. Alpha Tribe has--how many teenage girls? Let's say ten. If just half of them get pregnant... Well, that's gonna be a huge drain on the tribe's resources. Remember, these are unwed mothers too, so all the normal economic factors that go into making a family aren't in play here. These societies would have had to be communisms. And we know from our own lifetimes that a communism can only provide for so many slackers before it collapses. And an unwed teenage mother, who's in ill health to begin with? Definitely a slacker, as far as a communism is concerned.

"So a larger population, yes: but a weaker one because of undernourishment and disease. And that's just this one generation. Imagine if this were to happen over the course of multiple generations."

"I am starting to see your point," Kerri said.

"I've got a counter-argument," Winston said. "Patrick, what you're saying is true--no one can doubt that. But what you're describing can easily be countered by discouraging fornication. There's no need to discourage sex as a whole if the only thing that needs to be limited is when it happens."

"You're right," said Patrick. "And I'll be the first to admit that I'm no historian. Maybe I'm overthinking this."

"No," said Amanda, "you do need to discourage sex as a whole."

They looked at her.

"What's the one thing we're all taught on this subject?" she asked. "The one thing everybody hears? It's this: 'Boys only want one thing.' We're taught that practically from the womb--I mean, hell, even a Disney movie said it. The point is, we're taught this because it's true." Suddenly abashed, she looked at Winston and her husband. "No offense intended."

"None taken," Patrick said gravely.

Winston chortled. "Guilty as charged."

"So girls are taught to guard their dignities and their reputations," Amanda said. "We're taught not to give it up... Because if you teach boys to wait until marriage, they will nod and smile and then just ignore you once you're out of earshot. If pre-marital sex is going to be prevented, it has to be the girls who prevent it."

"Okay, I'm with you there," said Kerri. "But it's a long step from 'Protect your reputation' to 'Sex is bad and you shouldn't enjoy it ever.' Which is--as I'm sure you can attest, Amanda--what we're taught."

"Yeah, but, where were you taught it?" Winston said. "The church. Now, Amanda, don't get riled up about this, but... churches can get overzealous sometimes."

Amanda laughed. "Christ taught us to embrace the truth. That includes uncomfortable ones."

"Oh, good," Winston laughed. "Anyway, the point is, churches can get overzealous. They take the wisdom of the day--which of course is probably something smart and useful--but then they go crazy with it. They say, 'This must be the truth, always, because God said it once and therefore it must always be true.' Forgetting that, of course, wisdom is context-sensitive, and sometimes doesn't mean the same thing in a different place."

Amanda frowned. "I don't agree with that. I think there are things that are always wrong, no matter the circumstances."

"Oh, no, I agree," Winston said. "I'm just saying that not everything is always wrong. Take the death penalty. Is murder always wrong?--even of a murderer? Yes, I think so. But I also think that, on rare occasions, there will be a person who is so dedicated to causing harm and hurting other people, that the best choice--not the good one, but the best one--is to kill him so that he can't hurt anyone again. It is a crime to hurt him, but it would be even more of a crime to let him go on hurting others."

"You could even argue that, because you know he has no intention of living a peaceful and non-violent life, it's a virtue to kill him early," Kerri said. "If your objective is to provide the maximum amount of good to the maximum amount of people, then surely the life of this one man--a man who is contributing nothing and in fact subtracting from the community because he kills people at whim--is worth the lives of the uncounted others whom he would hurt if he were allowed to live. No one believes that murdering Hitler would be immoral."

"Though we do have the 20/20 of hindsight," Patrick said. "Remember, he was Time Magazine's Man of the Year. If someone had managed to stop him before he got started--before we actually knew what he was capable of--how would history look upon that murderer?"

"I don't know, but fortunately that's not what we're talking about," Winston said, grinning. "The point is that, once upon a time, it benefited society to socialize women to be sex-negative. That time may or may not be over--but, because churches got involved, that attitude will never die now. It's a Holy Law, you see, and that means they have to cling to it whether it's necessary or not."

"I don't think we're that crazy," Amanda said. "The church's attitudes have evolved. We're slowly coming round on the gay-marriage thing."

"Yeah," Winston said. "But slowly. Because the church is filled with people who would rather believe a book than what they see with their own eyes. So long as churches operate that way..."

"Point taken," Amanda said.

"Good god," Kerri said. "And this is the environment our kids are going to grow up in? They're going to have to face all this insanity?"

"Well, that's where parents come in," Patrick said. "Just as yours did, Kerri, when you grew up: it'll be your job to teach your kids what you think is right."

"Yeah, but, everything they thought was right, I thought was wrong," Kerri grumbled.

"Well, maybe that's what your job as a parent will be," said Amanda, shrugging. "To present your views and be shot down. But at least you can present them. Every child has to start somewhere. Could you have gotten as far as you have without your parents' views to rebel against?"

"So I should expect them to disagree with everything I say?" Kerri exclaimed. "Boy, I can't wait to tell that to Mom. She used to complain I was a brat!"

"I mean, I hope to raise our children as Christians," Amanda said. "And I hope they'll become Christians themselves later. But that's just it: faith in Christ isn't something I can impress on them. I have to let them come to it themselves; if they don't, it isn't genuine. And if they don't, I just have to accept that God is calling them in a different direction. And I'm certainly not going to beat them over the head with the sexual mores I was taught. If I have a daughter, and one day I find her masturbating, I'm going to encourage her."

Kerri snickered. "Seriously? You're going to encourage her?"

Amanda felt heat on her face. "Shut up, you know what I mean." Even as she said it, though, she wondered if it would prove true. I like to think of myself as a liberated woman, but the past four days have showed me something about that. What will actually happen if I come across a daughter of mine, exploring herself? Will I be supportive, or will my repressive training kick in?

Kerri was still chortling. "No, I don't know what you mean, why don't you tell me?" Then she relented. "No, seriously, I do know what you mean. It just sounded way, way wrong."

"Well, I'm guessing your kids will have some natural curiosity to begin with," Winston said.

"Why, what makes you say that?"

"Well, if it goes anything like the past couple of days," Winston said, "they'll hear mommy and daddy making weird noises from the bedroom. Much the way we have." He grinned.

Amanda felt her cheeks heat again. "We're not... That loud."

"Oh, you're loud enough," Winston said, grinning.

"And it's not so much that you're loud as that it's freaking obvious what you're doing," Kerri said. She put on a mock face: "Uh! Uh! Uh! Oh yeah!" She grinned.

"Well, we'll try to be more discreet next time," said Patrick.

"Oh, don't worry about us," Kerri said. "We're just glad you've worked it out enough that there can be a next time."

Amanda smiled at her husband. He smiled back.

"And there they go," said Kerri, tossing up her hands. "Excuse me, waiter? I haven't gotten my cooties shot renewed recently."

Patrick leaned close to her to whisper in her ear. "I'm looking forward to our next time."

She answered: "I love being so close to you. It feels like we really are one flesh."

"It's pretty good for me, too."

She stroked his cheek. "That's what I was looking forward to more than anything else. The chance to really be... with you. To be a part of you."

He moved in for a long, lingering kiss. She tasted many things in that kiss--what he had had for dinner, yes (shrimp scampi), but also his love for her, and hers for him; and the lust that had been simmering under them all night, now returned to the forefront of his awareness--and hers.

They stayed with their eyes locked for a little while after the kiss. So the look of despair Kerri on Kerri's face passed them right by.

Back at the room, Amanda felt a little ashamed. "Maybe we should... Hold off a little. I just... We keep getting lost in our own little world, and ignoring them. And making enough noise to disturb them!..."

"I think they were teasing us about that," he said. "But, if you want to back off a little, that's okay with me." He gave a little chuckle. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit worn out!"

"Oh no," she said, "are you hurt? Did I injure you?"

"No, no, not that at all," he said, "it's just that... Well, I think the most I ever came in one day, before now, was three times. And that was back in high school, more than ten years ago. Today... What has it been now, four times? And I'm getting on to thirty."




The Honeymoon Ch. 04



"You've still got a couple of years," she said, but it was a good lesson. She had never thought about it before--what reason would she have?--but of course he would need time to recharge. Semen didn't grow on trees, after all. "In that case, let's just have a quiet night with no... frisky business."

It was a good and sensible resolution; and, like many resolutions, it was harder to keep than it was to make. She felt sweaty and overdressed in her pajamas; the fact that she had seen Patrick get into bed with no clothes on whatsoever didn't help things. Patrick, too, found it difficult to focus. He needed the rest, that much was certain... But his wife's luscious body was right there, and lying there spooned up to her without getting to touch her in any other way just seemed so... lame. He kept his hand on her belly for as long as possible, but eventually he couldn't stand it and moved it up to her breast. When he did, she gave a gasp, and she realized just how much she had wanted it. It felt like the answer to a prayer.

"Maybe..." she whispered. "Maybe if we're quiet."

"I know just the thing," he whispered.

His hands did their marvelous work, and soon she was wet and wanting. She was glad to struggle free of the confining clothing, to bare herself to the world and his hands. Now she could feel: his muscles at her back, his weapon between her legs, the skin of his arms all down her front. She expected him to turn her onto her back and move between her legs, but his solution surprised her: instead of any negotiations, he simply lifted her top leg and then poised himself at her entrance. And, just like that, they were joined.

Most of their sex today had been physical, athletic, almost fierce; this was completely different. This was intimate, gentle, almost spiritual. She bent her hips back to give him more access, but soon changed her mind; she would rather feel him all down her back, mold every inch of her flesh to him. He couldn't achieve as much depth from here as he normally could, but she didn't care about that either. It lasted much longer than before--was he depleted, or was it because of the slower nature of their movements?--but she didn't care. And when he reached for her clit--perhaps mindful of what they'd learned at dinner--she gently led his hand away. "No," she said, "I just want to feel this."

They rocked back and forth in the timeless language of love. She felt the stern muscles in his arm across her belly, the warm roughness of his palm cupping her breast. She heard the almost-silent moans of his pleasure, felt his breath ruffling through her hair. She felt his body all down her back, from the sensitive spot at the top of her rump all the way up to her neck, at the tender place that hair normally hid; she felt his kisses there, on her ear, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. His cock was inside her, caressing her, stroking her, opening her up; she felt the push and pull, felt herself responding to his body and his to hers; felt the unmistakable sensation of caressing him with her body, and thought that she would melt with love. She whispered to him, telling him how good he felt, how much she loved what he was doing. And when his climax finally came, almost soundless in the night, she pushed her hips back to engulf him as much as possible, to bring him and his seed as deep inside her as she could.

He fell out of her as they slept, but that didn't stop them from doing it again in the morning. And this time if Kerri knocked on their door, they didn't hear it.

It was the most decadent day of her life. She and Patrick barely left the bed, except to use the bathroom and to receive room service. She put on a robe, once, to accept their lunch; dinner they must have fucked through, because to her knowledge it never arrived. All the rest of the time they were in bed, either napping between sessions, making love or sometimes--there was just no other word for it--fucking. She climaxed more times than she could count, and he gave her his seed again and again. Sometimes she felt as though her muscles were turning to jelly; at others she was fired up, almost angry in her need for his marvelous organ. They did it in every way imaginable: slowly, quickly; passionately, quietly; missionary, cowgirl, doggie-style, spooning, sixty-nine. She couldn't decide which one was her favorite: she loved to be on top and in control; she loved to be under him, subservient; she loved to be taken like an animal; she loved gentle intimacy; she loved to have his mouth on her, and to take him into her mouth and make him squirt. She loved the feeling of warm contentment after an orgasm; the quivering sense of anticipation and need right before he plunged, the delirious sense of completion when he filled her; the slick heat of his cum in her pussy. She loved it all. She couldn't believe that she was here, doing this, being so wanton; another part of her seemed to feel that she had been meant to be this way all along.

Would they have done the same thing the next day? She would never know, because before they could start, Kerri and Winston knocked on their door. "Okay, sleepy-heads, rise and shine! You had all day yesterday to laze around in bed; today we're getting you out!"

By now Amanda was far past the point of shame; but she did still feel a pang of guilt. She kept abandoning her sister--a lazy, selfish thing to do. Was she really so easily distracted?

Evidently, Kerri had similar irritations, because her face was wan. That in itself was unusual; Kerri rarely went anywhere without her bright smile. Patrick's comments on the situation didn't reassure her much. "Look, umm... Winston says it would be great if you would spend some time with Kerri. Evidently she's in a... Well, I don't even know. But she needs her friend right now."

"Then her friend she shall have," Amanda said.

Of course, this too was easier said than done. Throughout the last few days, Kerri had taken charge of their outings and activities, and frankly this was all to the good: now that she stopped to think about it, Amanda wasn't at all sure what would interest Kerri. And Kerri herself was indifferent; to each suggestion she gave a tired shrug. Amanda realized that Kerri had faced much this same behavior from Amanda herself, not too long ago; the thought only strengthened her resolve. She was going to be a good friend to Kerri if it killed her.

Finally she got Kerri suited up for a day on the beach, something they definitely hadn't done yet. Once outdoors, with sun and sand and laughter and the roar of waves like the breathing of some great mother earth, Kerri seemed to perk up a little. Still, her conversations had a distracted air that made Amanda nervous. Kerri was cheerful and outgoing, but she had never had trouble focusing before. Still, Amanda battled down feelings of inadequacy and led them both down the beach until they had reached an area of relative seclusion, far enough away from the resort that few people ventured this far. They spread their towels and sat down.

"So, what's going on?" Amanda said.

Kerri gave her a look. "That's it? That's your whole small-talk effort? You're just gonna... Plunge in, and that's that?"

Amanda returned the look. "Kerri, I'm not good at this stuff. You know that. But you're my friend. I care. And if I can help you, I want to."

"Yeah, you're my friend," Kerri said. "When you're not fucking draped all over your husband."

"And you don't do that on occasion either?" Amanda said. "Kerri, I love you like a sister, but I've known--for a while now--that I'm not your best friend anymore. And you know what? That's as it should be. When you met Winston... I mean, your whole life changed. Suddenly there was this corner of it--a big corner--that I wasn't invited into. And, as I said, that's to the good. You should have things that you share only with Winston. He's your husband, for heaven's sake. You're going to make a life together that has nothing to do with me. And I'm going to do the same with Patrick. Don't tell me you resent me for that, because you and I both know that isn't true."

"Isn't it?" said Kerri. "Maybe I don't like being shut out of your life like that. Maybe I wanna be part of it."

Amanda gave her a skeptical look. "Of the sex? Of the child-bearing? Of arguing over who does the dishes, or what the right trash schedule is, or whether it's okay to leave the toilet seat up? You don't need to come to us for that, you'll get it on your own."

Kerri glared at her in defiance for a moment; but then the facade collapsed, and she sighed and seemed to deflate back down to the towel. "Okay, fine, whatever. So I'm unreasonably annoyed at you. So sue me."

"I will do no such," Amanda said. "We're sisters. It doesn't have to make sense. Now, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Kerri sighed. "Well, the fact that you're so wrapped up with Patrick is not helping. I've been wanting to talk to you since Wednesday. I was hoping that, when we went on that bus tour of the island... But no, you were just making out the whole time."

"I know," said Amanda. "I'm sorry about that. I just... It's a powerful thing that was unlocked. I'm sure you of all people would understand."

"Yeah, I understand," Kerri grumped, "it's just... Inconvenient. I mean, how'm I supposed to talk to you if you're just face-first into him all the time."

"Do what you did today," Amanda said. "Ask. I'm never too busy to talk to you."

For the first time all day, Kerri gave a smile. "Even if you're with Patrick and he's balls-deep in you?" It was more like a smirk, but still, it was there.

"Even then," Amanda promised with exaggerated solemnity. "...Of course, I might ask you to wait until we're done," she added, and got another little smile from Kerri. "But the moment I got my clothes on, you'd be first on my list."

"Well, you've got your clothes on now," Kerri said.

"Yes, I have," said Amanda, "and here I am, asking what's wrong. But you're waffling now."

Kerri gave her a glare. "It's not easy for me. This stuff is..."

"Take all the time you need," said Amanda. "I mean, I'm here all day."

Kerri gave her a twisted smile and then looked out over the sea.

"It started... I think it started on Tuesday night," she said, not looking at Amanda. "When you... When you asked us to stay on hand in case you needed help."

"...Okay..." said Amanda, who could not imagine how this could change anything. "And... Something... Well, I mean, I don't even know. What was going on?"

Kerri closed her eyes, took several breaths with a grimace on her face. "I just... Seeing you. Seeing you made a difference."

Amanda squinted at her. "What, did we turn ugly when we were doing it?"

It was meant as a joke, to lighten the mood, but Kerri said, "No, actually, quite the opposite. It was... You were beautiful. I saw you and Patrick and I thought that it was... I mean, there was something..." Finally she turned to look at Amanda. "It was like a sacrament."

Amanda said nothing.

"I mean, you guys were doing it, yeah, and there's all the, what, the squick involved in sex--all the wet and messy stuff, and the funny faces, and everything. But... It was like you guys transcended that. You were there, and you loved him, and he loved you, and that was so much more important than all the physical clumsiness of sex. You really... You really love each other. When you guys do it, it's about your partner, it's about making them happy. And I just..." She croaked to a halt, and Amanda was startled to see tears in her eyes. "I just looked at Winston, and I'm like... 'Where is that? Where do we have that? Why don't we--' "

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there. Kerri, you... You married Winston. Are you trying to tell me that you, you don't... That you don't love--"

"Of course I'm not trying to say that, how stupid do you think I am," Kerri snapped. "I love him more than life itself. No, I wouldn't marry him unless I felt that way. But it just..." She sighed. "We never do what you guys do. We never... I mean, I love sex. I love to climax, and I love to make him climax, and... When we first started doing it, it was so good, there was like... Chemistry up the wazoo, and I... Yeah, I was like how you are. Couldn't get enough of it. But with us it's so... Physical. We're chasing orgasm. That's all we do. And I looked at what you and Patrick were doing, and how selfless you were, and how, how radiant you were in that love, and I was like... 'Where is that? Where is that in our lives?' "

"I see," said Amanda.

"And the thing is, you're right," Kerri gasped, beginning to cry in earnest now. "With Winston it's always been this way, and I don't know how to change it or even if I can, and now it's like... 'Okay, I just married this guy, and what if I'm stuck with this kind of sex for...' " And that was the end of speech, as Amanda opened her arms to her and Kerri cried on her shoulder. Amanda wasn't sure what to say, so she said nothing, trying to indicate with her arms and her patience and her love that she was there, and not going away.

Finally Kerri had cried herself out; she pulled back and wiped her eyes. "Oww. That stings. Never cry when you're wearing sunscreen." She laughed a little and blinked a few times. "Okay."

"Okay," said Amanda.

"So I just... I dunno. I just... became aware that there was this whole other part of life that I didn't have, and, I want it, and... I don't know what to do."

"And it clearly matters to you, if it's been disturbing your equilibrium like this," said Amanda. "What about the rest of your relationship with Winston? Are you happy with that?"

Kerri thought for a moment. Then she nodded. "It's not like... I mean, we just... We talk. We learn about each other. We spend time together. You know us, we've been living together for a year, and we just... It's gotten comfortable, you know? We know each other really well. We don't... I mean, I don't even know how to describe it. But it feels like we've been together for way longer."

"Do you regret marrying him?"

"Regret marrying him?" Kerri exclaimed. "Of course not! He..." Her voice turned pensive. "I can't imagine living without him. He completes me. I know you... I know you Christians don't believe in destiny, or whatever, but I'm convinced that... That he and I were meant for each other."

"We may not believe in destiny, but we believe that God has a plan," Amanda said, smiling. "And I've seen you and Winston together. If that wasn't in God's plan, then clearly He adjusted it when you two got together. I just feel bad for whoever you were supposed to get together with, because he got the short end of the stick."

Again, it was meant to elicit laughter, but Kerri took it in an unexpected way. "God, can you imagine? If I had gotten together with someone who wasn't Winston? I can't. I mean, I just... I look at that, and all I see is a featureless void."

"Seriously? You can't... I mean, you can't imagine a single thing?"

"No, not at all," said Kerri. "I mean, it... He wouldn't be Winston, right? But I can't imagine anything else about him. Like, how could I love someone who wasn't Winston? How could I be happy? Everything about him would irritate me."

Amanda smiled. "Well, I think you picked the right person then."

A slow, wistful smile touched Kerri's face. "Yeah. ...Except for this sex thing."

"Well... Have you talked to him about it?" said Amanda.

"God no. I mean, how am I supposed to talk to him about that? 'Hey, honey, now that you're balls-deep in me, can we have a heart-to-heart about how we fuck?' " She snorted. "Like that's gonna go over well."

"Well, first off, there's something," Amanda said. "You guys fuck a lot, right?"

Kerri gave her a look. "I can't believe you just said that word. Isn't there a commandment or something saying not to swear?"

"Well, what am I supposed to say? 'Have athletic sex that focuses mostly on physical sensation'? That's a mouthful. Why don't I just use the word that already exists for that kind of sex? It happens to be a bad word, but you know what? That's just life. 'Sex' is practically a bad word. So no, I'm not swearing--I'm being precise. Because you guys do mostly fuck, right?"

Kerri's eye twitched, but she said, "Yeah, that... That would be accurate. Why?"

"Because when I think about what Patrick and I do, I think the term 'make love' is a better description. What we do isn't about... Well, it is about the pleasure, but that's secondary. We're enjoying each other's bodies, and sharing our bodies, and being... intimate."

"Really intimate."

"Well, yeah," Amanda said. "I mean, that was the whole point of waiting until marriage. It's such an intimate thing, such a private thing... I mean, I'm glad that I waited until marriage. I'm glad that Patrick will be the only man I ever share my body with. That makes it so much more sacred."

Kerri conceded that with a nod of her head. "Well, unfortunately Winston and I don't have that option. Neither of us were virgins when we met each other. But experience has its own advantages." She gave Amanda a sidelong glance. "As I'm sure you're aware of by now."

"God, you're telling me," Amanda said. "You'd think they'd teach us these things or something."

"What, you'd want to take a class in it?" Kerri said. "5th-grade Sex Ed?"

"Heck no!" Amanda said. "I... You know, that's a good point. How would they teach us. But they could at least stop discouraging us from it."

"As we discussed on Wednesday night."

"Yeah. But, that isn't really what we're talking about right now. The point is..." She caught herself with a laugh. "God, what a reversal. How come you're asking me for advice? Hasn't it been the other way around for the last entire week?"

"So it's your turn to be a friend," said Kerri, sticking her tongue out, "instead of leeching off my wisdom for a week. Ha, how does that feel?"

"...I'll answer after you try what I suggest!" Amanda said, and Kerri laughed for the first time all day.

"All right then, O Wise Giver Of Advice," said Kerri. "What do you suggest?"

"I think you should sit him down and talk about it," Amanda said. "Don't be like... I mean, this is common sense, but it bears repeating: don't be all like, 'Oh, you're such a bad lover, you don't satisfy me, accuse accuse accuse.' Just... Tell him you want to try something new."

Kerri grimaced. "I dunno if that'll work." At Amanda's questioning look: "Just... I mean, we've been sleeping together for a long time. From the beginning, it's been this way. Fucking, instead of making love. I don't know if we've ever made love. And so, I don't know if he'll..."

"Maybe you'll have to teach him," Amanda said. "Which sounds daunting, probably, but then you've been teaching me all this time and it's worked out so far."

"But it's not just sex," Kerri said, "it's... I mean, you guys do PDA all the time." At Amanda's questioning look: "Public Displays of Affection. You guys aren't ashamed to show your love where other people can see it."

"Well, I should hope not," Amanda said. "What's to be ashamed about?"

Kerri gave a grimace. "The point is, he's not... Winston isn't... Demonstrative like that. I mean, I know that he loves me--I'm not even sure how I know, but I do. But... I just..."

"You want him to show it."

"No, that's the thing, he does show it. But... I want him to show it... A different way."

"By being more... gentle?"

"Yeah. Maybe a little more cuddly, and not so much... I mean, sex is selfish sometimes. We don't even really pay attention to each other sometimes--we're just both in the room, and his thing's in my you-know, so we're sharing, but it's my job to get myself off. And his to get himself off. And... Well, that works, because I'm better at getting myself off than he is--which is just natural. That's how sex works. You'll always know yourself better than Patrick will know you, and vice versa. So I get to climax really, really hard, and there's something to be said about that. But sometimes I want..."




The Honeymoon Ch. 05



In the morning, the Greers were up before the Kollaths, a state of affairs Amanda found startling--when had this happened before? Normally it was Kerri who was the early riser. But today they had time for a shower, and Amanda a chance to (try to) use the coffee maker (she had never been the greatest at unfamiliar kitchen appliances), before Winston and Kerri emerged, smiling, from their side of the suite. "Good morning," Amanda said. "Had a good night?"

"It was... good, yeah," said Winston, with an ear-to-ear grin that suggested 'good' was a mighty understatement.

"Look, Kerri, I'm really sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me, I just--"

"Water under the bridge," Kerri said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "I know you meant well, and that's all that matters, really. Besides, it ended up working out better for us."

"So you had your talk?"

"We did indeed," Kerri said, beaming. "We still want to hit you up for suggestions, but, I think we have reached an understanding."

"Which, I should add, we might not have reached if not for that well-timed glass of water," Winston said, smiling. "So, maybe we ought to thank you."

"Now hold on, let's not go too far," Amanda protested.

"Yeah, if you thank her she'll start lobbing ice water at everybody," Patrick chortled.

"Did you get your food, by the way?" Amanda said. "We brought it home in boxes and put it in the fridge."

"Yes, we did, and thank you," said Kerri. "That was very thoughtful of you, and we certainly benefited from the midnight snack."

"And much more convenient than room service," Winston said. "We were scared if we ordered, they'd ring the doorbell and wake you up. So we thought we'd try the mini-fridge before doing something drastic. And, thank god..."

"Good. Glad I did something right last night," Amanda grumbled.

"Oh, hon." Kerri disengaged from her husband and moved across the room to entwine Amanda in a hug. "You do a lot of stuff right. You're the best sister a girl could ask for."

Winston, evidently remembering their conversation from yesterday, sent Patrick an eyebrow-waggle behind their wives' backs. Patrick returned an ostentatious eye-roll, though he (once again) could not quite keep a return smile from blossoming on his face.

They did call room service for breakfast that morning. Kerri and Winston were in pajamas, and didn't intend to get dressed that day--"We're cashing in our stay-in-bed-all-day card, the one we got from letting you do it"--and it would be easier to pick the Greers' brains in the privacy of their own room. Besides, Winston wanted to try the room service. "It's something I do at every hotel I go to," he said. "It's just a tradition. And this seems as good a time as any."

So they ordered their eggs and bacon and pancakes and hash browns and fruit and toast, and then sat down to have their conversation.

"So, you guys worked out your communication problem?"

Kerri and Winston looked at each other. "Umm... By and large," said Kerri. "Not completely. But we're getting there."

"We talked after we got back," Winston said. "You probably guessed it by now, but Kerri told me that she wished I were like that more often."

"Why aren't you?" Patrick asked.

"Well, there was a... misunderstanding," said Winston, "back when we first started dating. We were in a situation where being wildly affectionate wasn't a smart idea, and Kerri told me so in no uncertain terms. The problem is, because of the way she phrased it..."

"And it took you this long to notice?" Amanda said.

"Well, remember, we had sex in the equation too," said Kerri. "I like snuggling as much as the next person, and sex went a long way towards satisfying that. It wasn't until... Well, I don't even know. But, like... Every action has an emotional meaning. You know? And when you're in love with someone, it's all equal. You kiss him or you fuck him--they both mean, 'I love you.' But, because sex is so physical, the... the balance is different. Whereas a kiss, or a hug... It means more, because there's so much less to it. You know?"

"...Err, no, actually, I'm not sure I do," Amanda said, "but it's your life and your equation, so as long as it makes sense in your head..." She laughed. Kerri smiled back.

"So, we realized that there was a misunderstanding," said Winston. "But it's also that... My mind just doesn't work that way. I don't feel like I need to hug her and kiss her at every opportunity to make her feel loved."

"You give gifts," Amanda said. "And you tell her that she has beautiful eyes."

"Umm... Yeah," said Winston, agog. "How did you know?"

Kerri elbowed him and rolled her eyes.

"...Oh," said Winston.

"So, what's wrong with doing that?" said Patrick.

"Well, I wouldn't say that's wrong, per se," said Kerri. "It's just that... It's not really what I'm looking for. You know?"

"Well, isn't that sort of compromise part of being married?" Patrick asked. "You get yourself accustomed to the way he expresses affection."

"Yeah, it is, and that's part of what we were hoping to get some help on," Kerri said. "But at the same time, he does know how to be cuddly and stuff. And, since I look for that anyway, it's more efficient if..." She laughed.

"Did you get your other stuff straightened out?" said Amanda. "The love-versus-fucking stuff?"

"Yeah, umm," said Winston. "Actually, we... Ha. It was interesting."

"Oh?"

"Well, Kerri probably told you that, the way we normally do it, it's more self-centered, right? She works on herself, I work on myself, and we both get to cum really hard." Amanda nodded. "Well, we took a step back and we looked at it that way. Kerri was seeing it as being kind of selfish, which to a certain extent it was. But I was seeing it as being in pursuit of our ultimate goal--which was the orgasm--and being the best way to do that."

"Which it is," said Kerri, "as we discovered once we started experimenting."

"Part of it was that she said she wanted you to be more involved in her orgasm," Amanda said.

"Speaking only for myself, I'd want to be," said Patrick. "I'd want to be involved in Amanda's, and have her involved in mine. Otherwise it's basically just masturbating. I mean, I'm masturbating using someone else's body, instead of my hand, but there's no... There's no emotional intercourse. Just, you know, sexual."

"Well, we tried that," said Winston, "and we found out--rather to our embarrassment, I might add--that we aren't very good at pleasing each other. Only at using each other to please ourselves."

"Which, again, works," said Kerri, "but isn't what we always want."

"How'd you fall into that rut, then?" Amanda asked.

Winston shrugged. "It was... The best I could offer."

"And I think that was a big step for me," Kerri said. "I had been taking it for granted that he was doing what he could to make my experience pleasurable. Sure, it was the same thing over and over, but... I remembered back in the beginning, how good it was that I could just focus on my pleasure, and actually climax during sex. We overused it, but that doesn't make it bad."

Patrick said, "Did you guys experiment with making love instead of just... Ooh, hold on, that must be the room service." It was, so they had to wait until the food had been handed out before they he could finish the question. "Anyway: did you guys try making love instead of just fucking?"

Kerri and Winston looked at each other with identical shy smiles.

"Well, I think that answers our question," said Amanda, grinning. And when Kerri and Winston didn't answer, but just kept gazing at each other, she sneaked a grin at Patrick and took his hand.

It went on for a little, so eventually Patrick, grinning, dropped his fork onto a plate with a loud clank. It broke the moment, and Kerri and Winston looked around. "Sorry, where were we?" said Kerri, fumbling for silverware with red cheeks.

"We were asking if you managed to try to get at the emotional side of sex," said Amanda, grinning. "We got our answer."

"Yeah..." said Kerri, with a dreamy smile on her face.

Winston, at least, was keeping his head about him. "It's kind of funny, but we basically just forgot that we could do sex like that. Because that's the thing about us--both of us keep our emotions under the surface."

"I do not!" Kerri exclaimed.

"No, you do," Patrick said. "Not, like... I mean, you wear them on your sleeve, you let everybody know what they are. But you don't expect them to matter, to you or to anyone. In any given situation, your first instinct is to ask what you can do to improve the situation. You're a helper. It's part of who you are, and your emotions come second. Close, but second."

"And I'm more intellectual," Winston said. "I sit back and try to figure out what to do about it. I'm logical that way."

"It's a good combination," Amanda said. "You come up with the best logical response, and Kerri, you come up with the best emotional response. There are worse combinations to have."

"But that means neither of you think of your own needs first," Patrick said. "In fact, maybe your own needs don't even enter into it."

Kerri blinked at them. "Wow. I never thought about it that way before."

"Well, it's how we approach things," said Winston. "Actually, it's one of the things I love most about her--that she's so selfless." He hooked an arm around his wife and drew her in.

Kerri gave him a giggle and a kiss on the cheek. "And it's one of the things I love most about him--that he doesn't get overwhelmed and thinks things through."

"Awww," said Patrick, and everyone laughed.

"But, it carried over to your sex lives," said Amanda.

"Yeah," said Kerri, "we just... I figured the best thing I could do was make him climax really hard--you know?--since guys don't go in for the emotional side as much. And he figured the best thing he could do was make it so I could climax at all--since that's hard for women to achieve. And... I mean, it really does work out. But... We just sort of drifted in that direction, and... We forgot about the other stuff."

"Until Kerri mentioned it last night," Winston said. "And we found out..." He laughed. "We found out that we really had forgotten how to do it. We'd just find ourselves falling back into the old patterns. It was kind of funny."

"Which is part of what we need the help on," Kerri said. "How do you make love?"

Patrick and Amanda looked at each other. She saw the same open-mouthed dismay on his face as she felt on hers.

"Well, ummm," said Patrick.

"It's not... It's not really something you can teach," said Amanda.

"I mean, don't get us wrong, there's ideas," said Patrick, "but, you have to experiment."

"It's very personal," Amanda said. "We can tell you what works for us, but that doesn't mean it'll work for you or, for that matter, anyone else."

"Because it's so personal," Patrick said.

Kerri and Winston looked at each other, and then sprouted identical predatory grins. "Ooh, more to explore," said Kerri.

"Ahh, well," said Amanda, "I can see you won't have problems with that."

"But, guys, beware that attitude," said Patrick. "I mean, I know you're looking forward to it, but when you're trying to do, like, emotional and loving sex, it's not a surgical strike. It's not targeted. You have to be willing to wander and get distracted."

Amanda caught a flash of inspiration: "Fucking is about the destination. Making love is about the journey."

Winston and Kerri looked at each other. "Thaaaat... May be a difficult mindset for us," said Winston.

Amanda and Patrick looked at each other. How were they supposed to teach a mindset?

"Well, it... It's more about... You just have to keep an open mind," Patrick said. "Don't go into it with any assumptions. It's not like, 'Okay, this is what I want.' You want... Anything."

"Maybe you should start how we did," Amanda said.

Kerri laughed. "What, with plumbing hiccups?"

"No, actually, that might be a good idea," said Patrick, clearly seized with some inspiration. "Instead of working at it from a sex angle, don't even. Keep clothes on. Explore everything else first."

Kerri looked intrigued, and Winston's eyebrows were up as though receiving some brainstorm.

Amanda looked at Patrick. "What, like we did, because we were waiting?"

"Yes," said Patrick, "exactly. Winston and I were talking yesterday and I realized I learned a lot about you through those limitations. About your body and about your heart. It's made us both better lovers because, number one, we know each other's bodies better, and number two, we're used to making the best of a limited situation. We can get more mileage out of whatever's at hand."

"And we're not ashamed to experiment, or try something silly," said Amanda.

"So, maybe that's a good way to start," Patrick said. "With clothes on, and with clothes staying on."

Kerri and Winston looked at them with identical perplexed expressions. "But..." said Kerri. "But... What do we play with?"

"Back rub," said Amanda.

"Neck rub," said Patrick.

"Hands and feet."

"Hair. Scalp. Both."

"He liked playing with my ears," Amanda said. "But he never liked having it done in return. Now I realize that it's because he was preparing me for oral sex!"

"Likewise, sucking on fingers," Patrick said. "Never did much for her. Because she doesn't have a penis."

"And it was good practice for me, too," Amanda said. "Some of what worked there crossed over to when I started going down on him. You know, five days ago."

"There are a lot of erogenous zones on the human body that don't involve genitals or breasts," Patrick said. "And it's not just that those places are only good for sex; it also helps you relax. I mean, back rub for heaven's sake."

"And what you said about the balance," said Amanda. "Earlier, Kerri? About the balance between the emotional content of an action versus the physical content? Well, all these spots are more emotional, because the arousal aspect isn't as strong. It's a chance for you to express love in a platonic fashion, if you so desire."

"Well... Kind of platonic," said Patrick. "More platonic than, say, grabbing a breast."

"So why don't you start there and see where things evolve," said Amanda.

"And let them evolve, don't try to control it," Patrick said. "It doesn't have to go the way you intended it. It doesn't have to anything. That's the point."

"One suggestion, though, for actual sex, if you actually get to it," Amanda said.

"When," Patrick corrected, smiling.

"Try and stay so that you can kiss at all times," Amanda said. "That changes the dynamic, and that changes the emphasis. My guess is that you guys set things up so you can really go to town when you fuck." She got their confirming nods. "Well, my experience is that those positions rarely leave you face-to-face. So try to retain that element. It'll force you to slow down, and change your emphasis."

"Boy," Winston said, "that's a lot of advice. Can I, um, go grab a piece of paper and ask you to repeat it?"

Amanda laughed and stood up. "I'm sure you guys will remember most of it." She reached out her hand to Patrick, who took it and stood up.

"And where are you guys going?" said Kerri.

"Well, we finished eating," said Patrick, "so I figure we'd best give you two lovebirds some privacy."

"It'll be a nice change," said Amanda, smiling. "Most of the time we're out in boy-boy and girl-girl pairs. I think this is the first time I've gone anywhere with just my husband."

"But... But what if we need help?" Kerri asked, looking worried.

"You know our cell phone numbers," Patrick said.

"Besides, you're two of the most capable people I know. You be fine. Just... Do what feels natural."

"I know, but... I wanna get this right." Kerri dithered with her hands, twisting a ring around her finger--her engagement ring, Amanda realized. "This is too important to mess up."

Amanda gave her a kiss on the cheek. "And that's why you won't."

She and Patrick evaluated all the tourist brochures in the lobby without conclusion; perhaps Kerri would have had some destination in mind, but they just wanted to spend the time together. So Patrick, who loved to drive, rented a convertible for the day so that they could just drive around the island, doing whatever they wanted and stopping wherever they felt like. They didn't know if they could find anything fun, but--as Patrick jokingly mentioned--"It's the journey that's important, not the destination."

Amanda relaxed into the bucket seat with a sigh. "My god. I think this is the first chance I've had to relax in... Oh, about a year?"

"Oh, come on," said Patrick, "you've been having fun."

"I have, I have," she said. "But just... Ugh. Ever since you put that ring on my finger, we were going full steam to plan this wedding. And then, once we got here... Well, I've had my share of pressures. And plus, Kerri isn't the casual type. She's so goal-oriented."

"As we just discussed."

"So the idea of just... Wandering... That's not something she does, really."

"Well, we get to wander now," he said with a smile.

"Yeah. But my point is, we've been married a whole week and finally I get to relax. So forgive me if I fall asleep. Like I said, it's the first time I've been stress-free in more than a year."

A nostalgic smile crept over his face. "I remember the first time you fell asleep while I was driving. We were coming home from that lake--remember, when your friend June invited us up to that cabin? And you'd been splashing around all day and you were exhausted. And I just... I was glad you felt comfortable enough in my presence to fall asleep." He touched her hand.

She turned hers palm up; their fingers interlaced. "We should've gotten something with bench seats. Then I can cuddle with you as you drive."

"Yeah, but then we've had had to get an automatic."

She smiled. "Well, we couldn't have that now could we," she said.

"Course not," he said, grinning, "that would be a travesty." And with that he started up the engine, and they were off.

It was fun--driving wherever they pleased, stopping wherever they wished. They found a curbside market and browsed the produce--homemade ornaments, cloth, the sort of things they might find at a farmer's market back home. The produce, however, was completely different; they showed each other examples of fruit they'd never seen before. There were pinkish things with green spines all over it and another more like a football, with a hard spiky shell and rather pungent odor. Patrick liked it, but Amanda forbade him from buying one. "If it smells like this now," she said, "imagine what it'll smell like in the toilet." Patrick put the thing down in a hurry.

They ate lunch at a greasy diner, whose customers looked a bit surprised to see two white tourists step in, and then Patrick asked for directions for a road up the mountainside, preferably a twisty, turny one: he wanted to put their car through its paces. Thankfully, a couple of wrong turns and some photo opportunities gave Amanda time to settle her stomach before things really got started. The road was narrow and twisty, but Patrick had things under control, and she knew--in that deep place in her bones far below conscious thought--that he would never put her in danger.

Besides, the view from the top was spectacular.

They stood together, arm in arm, the wind flapping through their hair. Below them sprawled the cities and jungles of the island, hotels and beaches, houses and office buildings, golf courses and parks, and beyond it an expanse of deep blue water, churned by countless boats, that leapt towards the azure horizon. They pointed out their resort--or at least what they thought was their resort; there were too many of them to be sure. Amanda wondered if this was what God might feel like: watching from some immense altitude, majestic in glory and secure in His power... and yet buffeted by a lonely wind, with no one at His side. She tucked herself further into her husband's sheltering arms. If the choice was between the power of a god or the love of an equal, I might choose the equal.




The Honeymoon Ch. 05



"We are so lucky," she said.

"I know," he said. "How many people get to be here? How many people get to see this?"

"Well... that too," she said. "But I meant that... That we had found each other. Think of all the people who go through life without... without ever knowing real love, or getting to be happy. Think of the people who go to thankless jobs in chilly office buildings and then come home to scream at their kids. Think of the people who have to join gangs to stay alive, whose lives are cut short in a hail of bullets, who fuck women but never love them. Think of all the things... we don't have to go through." She turned to him, put her arms around him, buried her face in his chest. "Because we have each other."

She felt his warm breath in his hair, the strength of his muscles around her. He was her fortress. She remembered what Kerri had said about the idea of marrying someone else. Who else could I have married? And how could I have been happy? Everything about him is perfect for me.

"Remember what we were talking about with Kerri and Winston," he said. "About how people show affection to each other?""Yeah."

"Well, I just noticed something. They don't say 'I love you' very often. And neither do we."

She looked up at him. "Well, we don't need to. I know you love me, and you know I love you. We don't have to say it."

"I know," he said, "but I just wanted to say it anyway." He gazed down at her. "I love you." His eyes were solemn, and she realized suddenly just how much she meant it.

She gazed into his eyes, letting the same solemnity pass in her own voice. "I love you."

She felt a shiver pass through her. They had traded the rings a week ago, been in the church, heard the organ thunder as they walked down the aisle--almost exactly a week ago, she realized, it must be nearly three o'clock by now. And yet it was now--this moment, here, now, on this windswept mountain a mile closer to the eyes of God--that she felt they had truly become one.

When, finally, they relinquished each other, she noticed that his eyes were on her breasts. And when she looked down and saw her nipples pointing through, she understood why. She met his eyes and they laughed.

"It's probably the cold," she said.

"Well, that and pent-up frustration, maybe," he said. "I mean, we didn't last night."

"True." For all the sweet noises coming from the Kollaths' bedroom, her nerves hadn't been assuaged. "Well... We have some time. And there's no one else up here." She smiled.

To her surprise, he shook his head. "No. It... Not in this place. You'd freeze, and the car isn't big enough, and..." He grimaced with the effort of trying to put his thoughts into words. "It's not enough for you. I don't wanna... I don't wanna waste that moment on a tawdry shag up here."

She leaned up to kiss him.

"Though, maybe... on the hood of a car one day," he said, grinning.

She rolled his eyes and led him back to the driver's seat.

It took a couple hours to get back down to sea level, interrupted in part by more photo opportunities--the views down to the ground, and once the road itself. Clearly, no one had been along to maintain the road in some time; either that or the crew had been drunk: the double yellow line at the center was veering around like crazy, and in some cases broken and reshuffled, as though someone had chopped it up and tossed it around. It made an appealing composition (and was funny as hell besides). "Only out here," said Patrick. "On the mainland you'd be sued if you did this, but here, where everything's so laid-back..."

They found a beach to romp on, with Amanda protesting at first that they hadn't brought swim suits. Patrick just smiled at her and said, "So?" and she decided he had a point. But Patrick wanted to relax a little after the hours of hard driving he'd put in, so he reclined his chair back and stretched out a little. And Amanda, thankful they hadn't brought the top back down yet after their descent from the mountain, leaned over and unzipped him. She knew that if anyone came by, they'd see her, but she decided she didn't care; besides, there didn't seem to be anyone around. (Why? Shouldn't the beaches be full of tourists, or at least locals? She didn't know; and after a moment, she decided not to question their magic luck.) She was still new at this, but it didn't take long before he was coming, his seed going down her throat. It was a tricky angle, but she locked eyes with him the entire time, intensely conscious of his body (she could feel nothing else but his hands on her hair, the tension in his legs, that warm shaft in her mouth) but focused on his face, on the love in his eyes, the pleasure in his mouth, and knew that, once again, they were one.

Back in the suite, they found that the remains of breakfast were still out on the table, suggesting that Kerri and Winston had gone straight back to their room after being left alone. Laughing, they started stacking the dishes for return to the room-service people, and the clatter brought their friends out. Winston was wearing shorts, Kerri one of his button-downs, and both of them had returned to their disgustingly chipper selves.

"Did you guys have fun at... wherever you went?" Kerri asked.

"We just wandered around," said Patrick with a shrug. "It was good to have some time alone." He smiled. "And you two?"

"We-elll..." said Kerri, grinning.

Winston wasn't so reticent. "You were right," he chortled, "there were tons of things we didn't know about each other. Like, I found that if you tickle her in--"

"Winnie!" Kerri exclaimed, giving him a slap on the arm. To Amanda's surprise, she had gone bright red.

"I guess you guys had fun, then," Amanda said, not bothering to hide a smile. "And got some of your problems worked out?"

"Well, some of them," Kerri said. "I mean, it's hard to just change direction entirely after years, you know? But we found out we can change direction, and we weren't sure about that at all, so... Win!" She grinned.

"Well, good, 'cuz, you realize that our flight home leaves tomorrow," Patrick said.

Kerri and Winston gaped at him. So did Amanda. Wait, seriously?! It's been a week already? We got married on... Oh, right, Friday. A week ago today. So that means that...

"Aww, man!" Kerri said. "Party-pooper. God, I feel like we wasted this entire honeymoon."

"I don't," said Amanda.

"Seriously?" said Kerri. "I mean... Jeez. Isn't it supposed to be like this wonderland snuggle fest where you're just drunk on love and life and sex and, and everything's perfect? Instead, we kept having all these problems."

"Yes," Amanda said, "and that's why I don't feel like we wasted it. Kerri, think for a minute. The problems you had with Winston, and the problems Patrick and I had: they would've happened eventually. No matter what. Right?"

"Oh, I see where you're going with this," said Winston, smiling.

"So I'm glad they happened now," Amanda said. "Now, when we had plenty of time to focus on them and to really get things right. I learned what it's like to be married to Patrick, and how to be married to Patrick. And I'm glad I got to do that here, where there was nothing else we had to focus on. Imagine if I had to do this after we all got home and were working 8 hours a day! We'd still be sexless!"

"Which would suck," said Winston.

"It would suck," Amanda agreed. "So I'm glad that we had this chance to get our marriage off on the right foot. I mean, isn't that basically what the honeymoon's for?"

Kerri looked at her husband. "How come she's giving us advice? What happened to the girl who needed so much help a week ago?"

Winston grinned. "Well, what goes around comes around, or so they say. Clearly, the kindness we did her has come back to us."

"And that begs another question, too," Kerri said. "What are we gonna do with our remaining... eighteen hours here?"

"You mean, besides eat and sleep?" said Winston. "It's 5 PM, you know."

"What do people do on the one-week anniversary of their wedding?" Kerri asked. "Amanda?"

"W-what?" said Amanda. "Me?"

"Well, you seem to have all the other answers," Kerri said with an ingenious giggle. "I thought you might be able to help here too."

"I... Not with this," Amanda said. "I know that for the one-year anniversary you're supposed to take that bit of cake down and eat it, but it hasn't been a year and we don't have it here anyway."

"Well, I've got something," said Winston. "We haven't gotten to spend a lot of time all together this week--mostly it's been pairs of everyone just going off to do whatever. Why don't we all hang out as a gang tonight, for once. It'll be fun."

"But no glasses of water this time," Kerri cautioned, waggling her finger like a scolding mother. "Unless you want me to respond in kind."

"Ooh," said Winston, "wet T-shirt contest?"

"Ha, she'd win," said Kerri and Amanda, at the same time. They glanced at each other with astonished looks before dropping into giggles.

Patrick gave both of them a mock glower. "What if we got a picnic dinner and ate out on the beach?"

"Do they make picnic dinners?" said Winston.

"...Well, one way to find out!" Patrick said. "We're gonna go down to the front desk, ladies. Try not to start a wet T-shirt contest without us."

"Are you kidding?" Kerri exclaimed. "If we waited 'til you got back..."

"Winston would beat all of us," Amanda said.

Winston looked down at himself. Patrick looked at Winston's chest. Then they traded eyerolls and disappeared, one after another, out into the hall. Amanda took the opportunity to lean in and whisper something in Kerri's ear. She had an idea, something she wanted to surprise Patrick with. When Kerri heard it, she squealed and practically jumped up and down in her excitement--evidently she thought it was a good idea--and promised to help her get it done.

Patrick had a hunch that the two of them were up to something--Amanda had always been fairly good about keeping secrets, but Kerri wore her heart on her sleeve, and she kept leaning over to giggle in Amanda's ear--but he wasn't entirely sure what. Maybe Amanda had said something really really funny. Or maybe Kerri just had sand in some inappropriate place.

The beach was basically as crowded as it ever got, despite it being the hour of the evening meal, and keeping sand out of his food was more tricky than he'd expected, but it was fun to be here: out under this azure sky, the endless waves like the breath of a parent, the sun on its proud parade towards the horizon, already beginning to streak the sky with banners of red. Here in this pleasant place, with the laughter of friends in his ear, with some of his favorite people in the world.

Still, it didn't surprise him when Amanda fabricated some excuse to go back up to the room--something about it being that time of the month--and Kerri managed to go with her. What did surprise him was how long it was before Kerri returned (alone, of course) and beckoned him to return. "She says she's okay, but she wants you to come up."

"Uh oh," said Patrick, playing the role of the clueless husband. "Is she all right? Should I get medical help?"

"No, it's nothing like that, she just wants her big strong man up there with her," said Kerri. How she managed to say this with a straight face, Patrick would never know. But Patrick, dutiful to the last, went upstairs to help out his "distressed" wife, wondering all the while what he'd find. Opening the front door yielded no answers: there was nothing in the living room but a folded piece of paper with an arrow pointing at their bedroom door.

Behind it was his bride.

The lace and pearl beading were turned out perfectly, completely untouched (or so it seemed) by their week-long respite in the closet. The dress was perfect white, except for touches of pale pink here and there. They had found her a bouquet somewhere, sprays of dewdrop white with pink roses tucked between, somehow the perfect color. Her hair was up in the same upswept elegant knot she had worn a week ago; she had even put on her veil, a film of gauze across her face.

She was beautiful--the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was suddenly aware of his clothes, so shabby by comparison (sandals, an olive T-shirt, well-worn shorts). And kindled in him was a sense of unworthiness: how could he possibly measure up to this vision of loveliness? This was the woman he had married, in all her glory and splendor; he had agreed to be tender to her, and provide her with succor, and be her shelter and her strength for all the years to come. In this moment he could not say that he would succeed. The task was just too great. And yet he must try, for to fail her would be the greatest regret of his life.

All this flashed through his head in a kaleidoscopic instant, during which time Amanda Elizabeth Greer blinked once.

"Hi," she said in a shy voice.

"Hi," he said.

"We... I hope you're not offended," she said.

"Shocked, more like," he said.

"I just... Do you remember where we were a week ago?" she said.

"At the reception." He thought back into that whirlwind day. "...Eating, probably. Or maybe having our first dance."

She nodded. "And do you remember what happened... After? When we had our, err, other first dance?"

Of course he did. It had been a difficult night--patches of terror and exhilaration, tangled. Some of it had been worse than his nightmares. Some of it had exceeded his dreams. "I could hardly forget."

"Well, I'd like to." She gave a self-deprecating huff. "I wasn't ready, and I didn't know what to do, and I made it... Terrible."

His compassion aroused, he said, "I wouldn't call it that bad."

"I would," she said.

There was no answer he could make to that.

"And so... I thought the best gift I could give you... Would be to do it again," she said. "And do it right this time. And... Make a real, true start to our marriage."

"Baby, you don't have to do this for me," he said. "Everything that we've done... Well, I mean, it doesn't matter, does it? I married you. It doesn't matter what happens between us. Even if sex is miserable, I promised to love you forever. And I meant it." His hand caressed her cheek, cradling her. "And I mean it still. There's no choice in the matter. I love you."

She reached up to hold his hand against her. "It's not just for you," she said. "I need to... All the things I thought were true turned out to be wrong, and you had to wait through it. You had to sit and be patient while I got myself turned around, and I don't... I can't be okay with that. You're my husband. There's nothing more important in the world than that. Whatever needs to be done to please you... There's no choice in the matter."

He said nothing, his eyes steady on hers.

"What I want," she said, "is to be perfect for you."

"Well," he said, "you already are." And, gently, he drew her up to him and kissed her mouth.

For a long time they stood there, kissing silently in the slanting sunlight--lip on lip, breath on breath, tongue on tongue. Though he was so much taller than her, she had never felt that he might hurt her, or even that he could. In his arms, in his presence, she was safe; there was nothing that could harm her while he stood near.

Finally he eased away to look at her: clear brown eyes, flawless pale skin, a button nose, the single dimple that appeared when she smiled. "I dreamed of this day for... It seems like forever."

"Well, you don't have to dream of it any longer," she said. She put her arms around him, let her body melt against his. "Tonight, all of it is yours. From now on I belong to you--totally and completely."

"Totally and completely," he said. "Everything?"

"Everything."

There was a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Even anal?"

She struggled to maintain a straight face. "It would please me to please you," she said, while thinking privately to herself that he would never, there was no way. He wouldn't be that crazy. ...Would he? And a part of her was curious too. She couldn't say whether she would like it, if they tried it--if they dared--but if he was there, it would be fun--and wasn't that all that mattered?

Still, there was dignity to uphold. "Nonetheless, it might be wise to keep things simple. After all, we're just starting out... and I have a lot to learn."

"That's true," he said, considering his wife. "It might be smarter to start out simple." Was she really planning to role-play things out to that level?--to pretend that it really was their first night together? But then he realized that, to her, it probably wasn't that far of a reach. For all the confidence she had gained over the last week, for all that she'd learned, the whole business of lovemaking was still new to her. Anal sex was out of the question, that much was clear; and there were a lot of other things he'd have to ease her into. She might be playing the role of the nervous young virgin... but the place where playing ended and reality began wasn't that far away. The act was false. The underlying nerves were not.

"Besides," he said, to give her nervous-virgin act another boost, "we've got enough to explore already."

"We do?" she said.

"All of each other? I'd say that's a fair amount."

She gave a tentative smile. "I guess. You know you'll have to walk me through a lot of it."

"I can hardly wait," he said. Which was, of course, the unbridled truth.

Kissing her again, he led her back towards the bed. "First, though, we gotta figure out how to unhook you from this astonishing work of art," he said. "It's too beautiful to ruin."

"And too expensive," she grumped. "Even if I'm only gonna wear it once in my life, the last thing I wanna do is ruin it."

"Then what say we slip you into something more comfortable?"

She gave him a smirk. "What, like, nothing?"

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind," he said, managing to look at least a little guilty.

"It's gonna take more than that to convince me, honey," she said. The smirk was full on by now. "You're gonna have to give me more."

So he kissed her--what else could he do? Kissed her well, and thoroughly, leaning into her, drawing her up to him, and then beginning to kiss his way around her jaw, down her neck, around her ears. At the same time he attempted to liberate her from her wedding dress. This was harder than anything he had ever had to do in the Marines, because the dress seemed to be attached to her with superglue and a forest of interweaving straps. He fumbled for several minutes, sensing her growing amusement, before giving up. "Who designed this contraption?!"

She gave him a sly smile and reached up behind her with one hand. Suddenly the straps lost all tension and sagged away. "That's to keep unruly husbands from trying anything during the reception." The entire bodice of the dress was loose now, held up only by the stiffness of the material itself, liable (it seemed) to fall off at a touch. The front of the bodice cupped her breasts, and it seemed she might pop out if she breathed too deeply. It was funny to find that so tantalizing: after all, he had seen her naked already, and more.

"What else am I going to find," he said, averting his gaze before he started drooling, "a chastity belt?"

The smirk. "Maybe. I don't just give myself to anyone, you know. You have to earn it."

"Hmm. Well, if that's my fate..." he said, and got back to work.

He had always loved her ears--they were unblemished and perfectly dainty. He bent to them now, nibbling, caressing, stroking with his tongue. She loved for him to play with her earring hole; he had no idea why, but what point was there in questioning it? He gave it time and attention, knowing he had to play this out in the grand manner, knowing that she was teasing him. She wanted him to pretend it was their very first time? He could do that.




The Honeymoon Ch. 05



Eventually he let his lips drift lower, laying a line of wandering kisses down her neck and across her bare shoulder. The bodice of her dress was still in the way, but he showered kisses across the tops of her breasts (which was all that was available) before finally reaching for her clothes. He met her eyes, and then (moved by an impulse he could not explain) leaned in to kiss her as he exposed her breasts for the first ("first") time.

And it was exposure, because she wasn't wearing a bra. "Umm," said Patrick.

"Honey, dresses like this aren't meant for bras," she said. "There's one built in." This, of course, was a lie; she'd worn one a week ago. Clearly, things were different today.

Her breasts were perfect: warm, pale globes capped with wide pink nipples. In the days and years before their wedding, he had wondered what they would look like, projected, predicted; but the real thing surpassed his imagination by far. The American cultural preference was for girlish slimness, like Kerri, but his Amanda was a woman, with proud breasts and wide hips and eyes to drown in. A little heavy, sure, maybe, but he hadn't done all that weight training in the Marines for nothing. She was perfect for him... and that was what mattered.

He bent his head to the pink nub he had so long desired, let his lips touch it. Even with the minimal effort they'd put in so far, her nipples were already a little bit erect, warm to the touch, ready for attention. Evidently she was pleased with him so far... and he had a mind to keep her even more pleased. Gently, he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking delicately, and then with more intensity, feeling it stiffen in his mouth and begin to lengthen. When he finally teased it with his tongue, he heard her almost-silent sigh, felt the way her body shivered, and knew that tonight would go well.

He stretched her out back on the bed, feeling the dress bunching under them, and suckled in earnest. He felt the warmth from her body like an aura, heard the slow lub-dub of her heart; he felt her hands, her arms, cradling his head to her, stroking his neck, his hair, his shoulders. Her skin was faintly salty with sweat, and there was a faint trace of the floral shampoo she always used; and under that the red taste of skin. Her nipple was warm, with a slightly spongy texture, and there were tiny little bumps around the rim of her broad areolas. All of it was his; but more importantly, all of it was hers.

Presently he left her nipple and began to kiss his way around the tender places nothing ever touched: the undersides of her breast, the place where it joined her armpit. As he did, she began to squirm a little, and though he knew what he was doing was probably ticklish, he thought that her dress must be making her uncomfortable too. "What say we slip you out of this contraption?"

"We could do that," she said. That sly grin spread across her face. "But only if you strip down first."

He wondered if that was supposed to scare him somehow. Or maybe she just didn't want to be the only one with no clothes on. Shrugging, he stood and doffed his shirt, shorts and boxers. This had the added effect of freeing his erection, but that was just part of life. It did make him wonder, though. If she's still intent on playing up the 'our first time' part of it, she'll probably make some noises about how big and scary it is.

His wife did not disappoint. "That looks... kind of big," she said. "Are you sure it'll fit?"

"It's meant to," he said. "I'm sure it will."

"I guess," she said, evincing hesitation. And then: "I... I've never seen one before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," he said, thinking, Boy: she sure is getting a kick out of this whole role-playing thing. I wonder what other fantasies she'll want to play out.

"It really does look big," Amanda said again, and Patrick felt a flush of pleasure--a man did like to hear that about himself. "Can I... Can I touch it?"

"I'd be pleased if you would," he said.

With charming reticence she came to him, knelt beside the bed, laid her hand upon him. She had warm hands, a little chubby--like a child's hands, and beneath an expression of childlike concentration. But what those hands were doing... Carefully, she ran her fingers across the surface of his shaft: long, slightly curved, veiny, arched out like a stooping bird. Pinching the head gently, she stretched it to its full length (it didn't have far to go). She traced the webwork of veins with the tip of her finger, and then the ridges and wrinkles, the slick circumcision scar... each touch sending tingles of ticklish anticipation through him. And then, finally--to his astonishment--she brought the head to her mouth for a kiss.

His surprise must have shown on his face, because she looked up with something of a guilty expression. "Is that okay? I guess I probably should have asked..."

"Oh, no, no, it's okay," he protested. "Actually, I will be very happy if you do that."

"What kind of happy?" she asked. "...Okay, that sounded wrong."

He covered the gaffe by bringing her hand up for a kiss. "The kind where I love you forever, and forgive you anything."

"Hmm," she said. "I could use that." And, suiting actions to words, she bent her head to his cock in the dying sunlight.

She was tentative, careful, gentle, as if this were the very first time she'd ever done this, as if she hadn't gone to him in total confidence only a few hours ago. She laid butterfly kisses up and down the side of his shaft, and then the top, taking her time, bestowing each kiss like a sacrament. She was paying attention to his reactions too: he saw her eyebrows jump whenever he shivered or gave an exhalation. She was finding the places that were most sensitive on him, the places that most made him twitch. And then, finally, she took him into her mouth, letting him rest on her quivering tongue.

Then she looked up. "What do I do now?"

He caressed her cheek. "It's okay. We'll teach you that later. That's good for now."

"Is that all?" she said.

"No, if you continued on, you could make me come."

"I could make you come with that?" she said, clearly excited.

"But that would slow the other things down," he said, "so, let's not. Let's just..." He drew her back up to sit beside her. "Explore for now."

She gave him a dubious look. "You don't want to come?"

Now it was his turn to give her a secret smile. "Not until we're actually doing it."

Her eyebrows went up, as if considering the idea.

"Well," she said. "If you want to actually do it. I'm pretty much ready right now."

Now it was his eyebrows' turn to skyrocket. "Really."

From forward to shy on the turn of a dime; he hadn't realized he'd married such a thespian. "I didn't realize that... that being so close to you would be so... stimulating."

"So, you like what we're doing?" he said with a smile.

In answer, she took his hand and, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, led it down between her legs. He felt warmth, and wetness, and pubic hair already slick.

His eyes were wide. Hers were solemn. He wasn't sure which to be more surprised about: that she was so aroused, or that she wasn't wearing underwear.

Without a word he moved up to kiss her, this time letting his passion flow. She responded in kind, her tongue reaching out to his, her arms snaking around him. Using his body he leaned her back onto the bed, easing her down until she lay beneath him, flat on her back, he looming above her, the skirt of her dress bunched up to her waist in front as his hand held firm below amidst her delicate folds, attending to her secrets, tasting her warmth. He felt crinkled hair beneath the heel of his hand, felt warm soft flesh around his fingers; he found the little bud that was the center of her pleasure, erect and seeking against between his fingers, and applied minute pressure. The results were gratifying: a moan, a sigh, a shudder; her arms tightening around him. She had been right; she was ready. But he wasn't just going to settle for ready; he wanted her wanting.

Bending his head to her breasts, he continued his ministrations. He drew her nipple, first one and then the other, into his mouth, switching back and forth, sucking on each one and swirling his tongue over and around its spongy surface. Below, he used his hand to rub back and forth across her vulva, pressing up and in against her pubic bone, knowing the pressure would translate directly onto her clit. Above her head he heard moans, sighs, those little breathless gasps that seemed both pleasure and pain; her body moved against his, lifting up off the bed in undulant waves, pushing up against his hand.

He took the ultimate step of allowing a finger to slip inside her, and then two. She was pinioned on his hand now, while his fingers enjoyed the slick crevices of her inner passage. Her texture inside was not entirely regular; there were ridges, almost imperceptible, and other patches of roughness. And there were muscles, that clenched down on him almost involuntarily as his palm made contact with her clit. When he felt that, he knew it was time.

With his other hand he led her further down into the center of the bed. Her eyes showed confusion, but when he moved to mount her, she understood, and reached for his manhood to guide him into place. Floundering in the middle of the bed amidst sheets and skirts, at ninety degrees to how they normally oriented, it took a little bit of adjusting before they had everything in place, but shortly he was above her, nestled between her legs, her hand leading him in by the shaft.

He looked at her. "Last chance to back out."

"No way," she said. "Baby, you're not the only one who's been looking forward to this." And she reached up to kiss him. "So do it. Make me your wife. Make me yours."

He could feel himself stiffen just thinking about it. He was fairly sure she could too.

So he brought his head down to kiss her, and let his hips begin to move in. He took it slowly, so that she would have time to position him, and soon enough he was poised at her entrance, feeling her pussy lips brushing his head. Without breaking their kiss, he began to push in; there was a moment of slight resistance, and then, with a gasp from her, suddenly he was through, sliding into her depths, opening her up from the inside. He marveled at the synchronicity of it: he could tell that they had simply gotten the angle wrong, but in the meantime it was almost as if he had taken her virginity. Again. ...For the first time, come to think of it: she hadn't had a hymen; their actual first time hadn't involved any obstruction.

And then conscious thought was a thing of the past, as he lost himself in the bliss of her body. She was wet and willing; her legs came up to cross over his back, her arms hooking behind his shoulders. Her breasts were warm and full beneath his chest; she moaned her acceptance into his mouth. Slowly he plumbed her depths, feeling every ridge and bump, feeling the slickness of her walls caressing his length, feeling her unfold beneath him, until finally he had no more to give. He opened eyes then that he could not remember closing, and saw the open-mouthed, slightly dazed look on her face, and knew that it was just as good for her as it was to him.

As though by some perfect consensus, they began to move together. In and out; back and forth; up and down: they moved in a timeless rhythm that required no teaching. At each withdrawal she ached for his return; each thrust, each perfect gratifying thrust, made her moan with pleasure. Her body seemed on fire, alit from within with need and lust; she could no more have resisted it than heartbeat, or breath. To her inflamed mind his erection within her seemed enormous, titanic; she felt as though her whole body were hollowed, emptied, reduced to a receptacle for his manhood within her. And at the same time she felt the clenching tightness of her loins, the need, the pressure there; in that heat and tightness she felt every ridge of his cock within her, every inch of it pressing into her, opening her up from within. As he moved into her, she used her legs for leverage, pressing her pussy up to him, wanting to get him in as deep as possible. She wanted him. She wanted everything.

It was good; no, it was more than that: it was heavenly. And she wanted it to last forever. But its end had its own advantages too. Though she was playing the role of the innocent virgin, she had hardly forgotten what she'd learned over the last week; she knew when his climax began to overcome him. And, when he seemed liable to break off and say something--silly man, so obsessed with politeness!--she dragged him down to her and kissed her, cutting him off before he could begin. She wanted to give him everything, and she would not let him prevent that.

And so it was that he gasped against her mouth, and stiffened, and she felt the coiling tension between her thighs break loose; and then he was moaning, gasping out his pleasure, and she felt his buttocks contract as he pushed deep inside her and let loose his seed. She could feel his shaft twitching with every spurt, each twitch in time with his moans of pleasure; she could feel his body shudder above her, caught in its ecstatic release. And then it was over and he subsided down onto her, his arms trembling, his breathing harsh, and she opened her eyes and saw the open-mouthed, slightly dazed look on his face, and knew that it was just as good for him as it was to her.

She allowed herself one smile of triumph before slipping back into her wide-eyed role. "Wow, that was... I didn't realize it would be like that."

"Was it... Was it uncomfortable?"

"No, it was..." She let a look of teary astonishment cross her face--not hard, really. "It was really good. I didn't... I didn't think it would be that... Good." Was this acting? She wasn't sure. After all, she wasn't making any of this up; she loved feeling him cum inside her. The only difference was that she was saying out loud what she would normally keep to herself.

He managed a bit of a laugh. "It was pretty good for me too."

"I'm glad." She hugged him tight, letting her voice break. "I'm glad. That's what's important."

They seemed to realize simultaneously that, despite all, they had not managed to get her out of her wedding dress. The pearls were digging into his stomach, and there was uncomfortable bunching under her back. Laughing, they divested her of the thing, noting with amusement the wet spot they had created, and then fell back into bed together.

"I'm glad we did this," she said. "It was the perfect way to start our marriage. God, imagine if it hadn't worked."

He wasn't entirely sure if she was still in her role-playing virgin mode, so he limited himself to a non-committal, "Well, it did, so we don't have to worry."

"Yeah. I mean, how lame would that be, if I wasn't able to please you."

"That will never happen," he said seriously.

"It almost did," she said, her voice bleak.

"No, it never did," he said. "Even when you weren't sure if you could go through with things, you were still serious about being a good lover. Heck, even when you were sure we couldn't go through with things--when we were dating--you were serious about being a good lover. You wanted to do a good job. And that's what matters. Even if things had gone catastrophically wrong, you would've found a way."

She buried herself in his arms and chest. "I'm glad I have someone who has such faith in me."

She felt his lips brush the top of her head. "Not faith. Faith implies something you can't prove. I believe in you, Amanda."

She kissed his chest. "I love you."

Tomorrow their flight would leave, and they would have to depart this carefree tropical paradise and get back to real life. There was a lot of moving to do--she was moving into his apartment--and then presents to store, thank-you cards to write, jobs to hold down, money to earn, bills to pay, food to cook, oil to change... So many mundane things that they had been able to put away from themselves for just this one week. Tomorrow it would end. But she knew that, whatever storms she might have to weather, she could survive it. So long as she had him beside her: his sheltering arms, the touch of his laughter, his broad shoulders; the gentleness of his hands on her breasts, the sweet warmth of his cum inside her. Her husband. So long as they were together, she could not be touched.

"I can do anything now," she whispered to him. "With you along, I can even conquer myself."

A wry shake of laughter: "So, I guess you don't want me to leave?"

She shuddered at the thought. "No."

"Well, good. Because I'm not going anywhere." He kissed the top of her head again. "I love you."

She smiled against his chest. "That makes two of us."