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Simply put, Heather is a woman in love. Merely looking into her husband’s blue eyes has always melted her. In all her life, she’s never felt such an overwhelming physical attraction for a man. She’s never felt the emotional connection they share either. From the day they met she knew John was the perfect man for her.
Heather never thought herself as being overly sexual. In high school and college she’d had the typical urges, but she prided herself on keeping them mostly in check. It was easy to do before meeting her future husband, as she’d never met a guy she was truly in love with. After meeting John everything changed for her. As their courtship progressed, it became increasingly difficult for her to stick to her vow of remaining a virgin until marriage. Not that he pushed or applied much pressure. To the contrary, he was always a perfect gentleman. If he hadn’t been, the floodgates may have opened well before three days ago. They had dated only two years, yet it seemed to Heather she’d waited her entire life for this week to arrive.
After they’d been exclusive for many months they would sometimes neck in his car at night, where she’d let his hand find its way under her blouse and unclasp her bra. She’d close her eyes and kiss him passionately while he played with her breasts, making her nipples hard and tingly. She loved how he made her feel; but when his hand would slide down and discover how wet she was, she’d pull it away. Another girl may have bit her lip and welcomed the intense excitement that was around the corner; but Heather remained firm in her convictions.
There were those few occasions when she did give in to her desires–or rather–went too long before squelching them, and she would then experience the intensity her girlfriends always talked about. Sometimes she’d even have quiet orgasms as he lightly touched her clit or submerged his fingers into her swampy wetness. When this happened, she’d stifle the orgasm as best she could, out of embarrassment or shame, or a combination of the two.
Far more often than not, Heather did the proper thing, and whenever she pulled his hand away, John would abide by her wishes. He would kiss her cheek and say he was sorry, whisper in her ear that he loved her and vow to wait until she was ready.
Every so often during the most heated of those nights, Heather would wish John was more demanding and just take what he wanted from her. When she was sufficiently worked into a lather and telling him to stop, she’d yearn for him to say, “No Heather, I’m making you come right here and now,” and keep his fingers deep inside her and his thumb circling her clit. That way she could’ve experienced what she desired without feeling responsibility for it.
But in the end, he never did that, and it has worked out better that he didn’t. For now, all on her own, Heather feels ready to take responsibility. She is a legally married woman, one who’s discovering that she’s comfortable letting her orgasms come as consistently and forcefully as the waves that pound the beach. From the moment they kissed on the alter, she made a promise to herself that she’d give her body freely to her husband–as this is what she’d always thought a good wife should do.
After all, John deserves it. Throughout their courtship he had made her feel loved and respected. He also made her feel sexy, even when she was rarely deliberately sexy for him and hadn’t a clue of her own allure. Yes, this honeymoon…this first year…this rest of their lives, Heather would reward John for all the love and patience he’s shown her. She would be his reward. After saying yes to being his love slave for the day–after the lingerie show and making love on the bed and the incredible blowjob she gave following his shower–John got ready for an archery class, telling Heather to relax and enjoy the room until he got back and then they’d go to the beach. She kissed him goodbye at the door and waited a few moments before going into the bathroom, where she filled the basin with water. Having been wet and full of come all morning she was anxious to take off her thong and wash it. After bathing it in warm soapy water, she rinsed it, rung it out, and walked onto the balcony wearing only her bra, not caring who may be watching. She was a love slave, and was dressed how she’d been told to dress. She put the tiny thong on a plastic chair, knowing the skimpy garment would dry quickly in the hot morning sun. Then she went back to the bathroom and drew herself a bath.
Heather was lying in the tub, warm water filled to her neck, her head resting on a wet towel pillowing the porcelain behind it. Her red-painted toenails were propped up on the faucet handles at the other end of the deep tub. She looked at her bra hanging over the bathroom doorknob and smiled. John had bought her the bra and thong only a day earlier. They were delicate and see-thru and she loved them. She wasn’t used to wearing such sexy lingerie and was happy to do so now. They made bahis firmaları her feel womanly and desirous, and best of all they had a big effect on John. He’d always told her what a wonderful body she had. Now that she was showing it, he was even more complimentary. They could hardly go to the little lunch hut for a bite without him making a comment or two about her tight little butt or perky breasts; and after lunch he’d take her by the hand and guide her back to their room where she’d get on her knees and suck his cock until he came in her mouth, or spread her legs wide on the bed and let him fuck her as hard as he wanted. It seemed that John was always aroused around her, and that was the biggest compliment of all.
Heather reached for a bottle of lavender bath oil she’d laid out on the rim of the tub alongside a bar of rose-scented soap, a bottle of lavender shampoo, hair conditioner, baby oil and razor. She unscrewed the cap and poured a generous dollop of the oil into the bath water, swishing it around with her hand. Replacing the cap, she rested her head back against the towel and slid deep into the warm water, letting the aroma of the bath oil seep into her nostrils.
She felt marvelously alive and relaxed at the same time, blessed to be living the honeymoon of her dreams with the man of her dreams.
All those times in his car–or back at his apartment, or in her dorm room, or at her parents’ house while mom and dad slept upstairs–John would kiss her open mouth and his hands would roam over her body and his fingers always felt like magic. There was not a time when she didn’t feel the electricity of his touch. It was a shame she’d been compelled to put an end to it as often as she had, but maybe it was for the best. So much resisting made what was happening now that much more special and intense.
She thought of the very first time they had made love, after the reception. With his kiss on her lips and her body in his arms and his hands between her legs, she felt as if she belonged exactly where she was–and at long last felt his fingers belonged exactly where they were too. They were soft yet firm, feeling the slippery contours of her, handling her so delicately she could have cried. But instead of her eyes becoming watery, she was wet elsewhere, to the point where her thighs were damp and she thought she must be dripping. He took his time that night, never doing too much too soon, working her up slowly and lovingly with his kisses and his fingers, playing her expertly, opening her damp petals, touching them over and over up and down, spreading them apart. Her hips rocked back and forth, moving against his fingers, wanting to suck them in. She parted her legs wider, granting whatever access he desired. When his blue eyes looked down on her she was in a woozy state. She was lost in his grasp and his gaze. He smiled tenderly and tweaked her clit between his thumb and forefinger, and that alone made her come very hard. He hadn’t even entered her yet.
Heather picked up the bar of rose-scented soap. It had been in a gift basket filled with bath luxuries awaiting her on the back seat of the limo taking her and John to the airport after the reception. A simple note accompanying the basket read: “A few things for my beautiful baby girl, now so much a woman. Love, Mom.”
It was a loving gesture, and Heather had unwrapped the purple-tinted cellophane covering the basket with joy, putting all the little bottles and boxes in her carry-on bag before arriving at the airport.
Heather slid the bar of soap down from her neck slowly, feeling it roll over her breasts and glide along her rib cage to her flat tummy, then down further until it gingerly massaged the contours of her thighs. She soaped her legs one at a time as they rested on the faucet handles, then dipped each into the warm water to wash off the residue. She brought the bar up again, slithering it over her prominent hipbones, sliding it past her abdomen, up her slinky torso and out of the water between her soft breasts. She soaped her chest and neck leisurely and then submerged her body up to her chin, watching the suds dissipate in the water. While still reclined, she brought the bar back to her breasts. She arched her back and her turgid nipples bobbed up from the water’s depths like submarines periscopes. She rubbed the bar over them and then sat up in the tub. With her chin tucked to her chest, she slid the scented bar back and fourth between her breasts while looking down at the suds she was creating. Her nipples were very tingly now, just as they’d been during all those nights in John’s car.
Heather liked her breasts. They weren’t overly big, but they were firm and her nipples were large and exceptionally sensitive to the least amount of temperature or touch or exciting thoughts. It was true they had remained hard almost the entire time she and John had been in St. John’s. She cupped her left breast in her hand while working the bar of soap over her nipple in a circular kaçak iddaa fashion, wondering if she could make it rise any more than it already had. The sensation was intense, and when she could stand it no more, she moved to the other breast and did the same thing. She was exhilarated, looking down at herself, playing with her big soapy nipples alone in the quite tub.
After making her buds prickle with unabashed excitement, Heather put the soap back onto the side of the tub and slunk back into the water, submerging her breasts. She positioned her head on the towel and moved her left hand down between her legs. It was a well known place for her fingers to visit and she found herself familiarly wet. After all those nights holding off the inevitable with John, Heather’s fingers had become some of her closest friends. Hardly a night went by after seeing him did she not make herself come while thinking of the things she wanted him to do to her and the ways she would some day make him happy.
It was warm in the tub, actually too warm, so Heather turned the drain switch with her toes, letting the bathwater slowly escape. Having lost track of time, she lay there rubbing herself cautiously while listening for John’s keycard in the lock. Not that she’d deliberately hide what she was doing if he came in, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be caught doing something he hadn’t specifically asked for. All she knew was she wanted to touch herself and work herself up without coming, just ride the swell above orgasm for a while, as she’d done on many occasions after John had dropped her back at her dorm and her roommate slept just a few feet away.
When Heather was in a very heightened state she could play with herself for a long, long time, sometimes holding off her climax for a half hour or more. She’d work herself up and moments before orgasm she’d slow her fingers or remove them altogether until her excitement subsided; then she’d begin the process all over again. It was on those dawdling, ebb-and-flow nights in her dorm room when she’d eventually have her largest orgasms, coming in waves while hoping her squeaking bedframe and muffled moans wouldn’t wake her roommate.
Heather realized her masturbation ritual was a bit like her and John’s sexual relationship, although by her own design it had been much more ebb and flow than climax. This week, she was ready for the tsunami to hit.
As Heather played with herself she thought of the first time John had made her come with his mouth, when she was on the bed naked, staring up at the ceiling fan and he was on his knees, kissing her thighs, calming her jealous concerns and whispering his immediate intentions. She thought of his tongue caressing her folds, how he’d licked her softly while his fingers pinched her achingly long nipples. She remembered John putting his lips directly onto her bulging clit and sucking gently, swirling his tongue rhythmically while his fingers probed the depths of her pussy. She thought of the feeling of his fingers exiting her cunt and traveling down down down lower and lower, leaving her to wonder if he really would touch her there. And then she relived the sensation of his forefinger as it did in fact position itself at her anus. Feeling John’s finger twitching at her tiny opening she couldn’t help but push lightly against it, just enough to let him know she didn’t mind him there. Soon, she felt the slick digit invade her, going all the way in and making her moan with pleasure. And then she remembered how she had come harder than she’d ever come in her life, even harder than those most intense nights when alone in her dorm room bed.
Heather dropped her hand quickly from her pussy, trying to think of mundane thoughts to stop the orgasm that was approaching like a freight train. She fought it with all the power of her being, thinking of the petty wedding planning arguments she’d had with her mother. She thought of calculus and accounting too, and all the other subjects in school she hated. In the end, it was just enough to stave it off, and she was thankful she hadn’t gone too far. She didn’t want to waste her sexual energy or take any of it away from John. She wanted John to have everything she had to offer.
The water had drained from the tub by now. One of Heather’s legs was against the shower wall while the other was hooked over the side of the tub. She was lying back against the towel, her legs splayed wide, her pussy yawning open in the empty tub. She was in one of her very heightened states. She squirted warm baby oil over her body and rubbed it in with her hands. She knew if she touched her pussy again she’d come, so instead she picked up the razor and began to shave her legs. After finishing both legs she shaved her underarms and when done with them she started on the faint stubble surrounding her pussy lips. She had shaved there for the first time only two days earlier at John’s request. She’d never thought of doing it before. After shaving the first time the sensation kaçak bahis made her feel naked, girlie and sexy. Now she decided to take it a step farther. Finishing her lips, she began manicuring the runway strip she’d sported before entering the tub. She cut in with the razor on both sides, making the strip thinner and thinner. With less hair there, her pussy was becoming more visible, so she continued on. By the time she was done she’d shaved all the hair away, leaving herself completely bald. She knew John would like her this way, with everything in plain sight. She couldn’t wait to surprise him with it.
Putting the razor down she felt calm enough to touch herself again without the danger of coming. She hooked her leg back over the sidewall of the tub and tucked her chin to her chest to watch her fingers play with her very visible clit. When she was sufficiently worked up, she picked up the bottle of hair conditioner and held it over her. She was no longer thinking about John’s keycard in the lock. She was thinking only of being his love slave, wondering what he might ask her to do. She spurted five or six long lines of the white liquid onto her tummy and over her breasts, one of them even hitting the side of her face and ear. Seeing the thick fluid on her made her heart beat fast. This wasn’t the first time Heather had played this game with herself in a bathtub.
She continued looking down at her body, one hand busy at her pussy while the other held the bottle over her. Her body looked like it had the afternoon before, when John had ejaculated on her after making love on the balcony–only now there was more of it. Feeling her excitement build, she squeezed the bottle again, pretending another load was hitting her, this one even bigger. Her breathing became labored and she let her mind wander. Lowering the plastic bottle over her thighs, she again pumped it several times, watching spurt after spurt of the thick gooey substance splatter against her hips and thighs and fast rotating fingers. She was now blanketed from head to thighs in the come-like cream. It was as if many, many men had come on her at the same time.
Heather plunged two fingers inside her pussy while dropping the bottle. Bringing her free hand to her face, she accepted three fingers deep into her mouth. She sucked them like a cock, moving them in and out while pumping her pussy vigorously with the other hand, pretending it was John inside her. She was moaning uncontrollably, lost in fantasy, looking at the massive amounts of come covering her body while pretending to hear John’s voice say, “Suck him Heather, make him come!” Then she quickly moved her fingers away and turned her gaze to the wall, thinking as hard as she could about a particularly perplexing calculus problem.
By the time John came back to the room, Heather had showered off all of the conditioner, lotioned her body again with baby oil and put on her light blue string bikini. She was proud to have been able to keep herself from coming. John took one look at her, saw her nipples protruding against the fabric of her bikini top and smiled widely at his new bride.
“I’m ready for the beach, baby…or whatever,” she purred.
“I’m ready for the beach, too. But, I’ve been thinking. It’s still love slave day, right?”
“Yes. Maybe every day will be love slave day. What do you want?”
“Where is the bra and thong I’d picked for you?”
“The bra is in the bathroom and the thong is on the balcony.”
John went into the bathroom and retrieved the bra from the doorknob, then walked to the balcony and snatched the now dry thong from the chair. He went to the closet and found the cute little sundress he had in mind, then handed all three to Heather.
“Put these on, lovey,” he said.
Heather was confused.
“I thought we were going to the beach?”
“We’re going to the beach.”
Heather was too excited to speak. Her heart was flapping in her rib cage like a hummingbird. As John went into the bathroom, she took off her bikini and looked at her naked form in the wall mirror. She was painfully erect up top, and her hairless pussy lips were visibly thick, dangling, and glistening in the mirror’s reflection. She put on the see-thru, half-cup bra and the skimpy see-thru thong, then looked into the mirror again. She almost didn’t recognize the sexual girl staring back at her…the one wearing intimate lingerie that left nothing to the imagination…the one looking like she needed an especially hard fucking. The top third of her areoles peaked over the crest of her bra like crescent moons and her hard nipples showed clearly through the gauze-like material adhering to her oiled skin. The mesh thong did little to hide her shaved pussy. It clung to her puffy folds like a frightened child in a new environment clings to her mother’s hand.
Heather bit her lower lip. She almost could have come just thinking about being on the beach in front of strangers while dressed this way. When John came out of the bathroom, she was wiggling into the tiny sundress over her lingerie. He kissed her very passionately, then held her hand tightly as he led her out of the room and down toward the crowded beach.
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