Chapter 17
Peter was fucking Elvira; they were on a massive Harley, speeding along a deserted country road. Peter was driving, his hands distractedly grasping the handlebars as his teeth nibbled Elvira's neck. She leaned forward from his lap, her legs wrapped back about his waist, her forearms and breasts near the center of the handlebars.
Vrooooom! He gunned the engine, eliciting a happy moan from her. She squeezed her cunt more tightly around his aching cock. He advanced the throttle again, and shifted to a higher gear, accelerating and causing Elvira to move even faster on his swollen organ.
Wild vibrations came up through the seat into his body and on to Elvira's cunt and thighs. She moaned and panted, and squeezed her legs more tightly around the waist, at the same time milking his cock with her cunt, in a series of wild pulsations that nearly made Peter lose control of the bike. He barely managed to keep it on the road.
Peter kicked the gearbox down to first and hit the brakes just as he shot his load into her. When they'd stopped, Elvira slowly disengaged herself as Peter sat exhausted, one leg holding the bike upright.
"Peter?" she gasped into his ear. "Yeah?"
"You've got one big prick, Peter."
"I am one big prick, baby." They both laughed gleefully.
It was their wedding night; they'd been married that morning, and had spent the rest of the day strolling through the woods, petting in the grass, chasing each other through clumps of trees. Wiffie had rebuffed Hamp several times when he'd tried to make love to her. "Later," she whispered as she kissed him on the lips and squeezed the wrist attached to his eagerly clit-stroking hand. "We can wait till tonight, can't we?" And they had.
Hamp was in the motel bedroom now, wearing a new pair of pajamas-ski pajamas. The clinging knit material did a nice job of showing off his equipment, he thought. He was waiting for Wiffie, who was getting ready in the bathroom. Hamp grew impatient after a while, and went to the bathroom door and knocked.
"Stay out!" Wiffie called. "I want to surprise you."
Hamp went back to the bed, where he sat on the edge and absent-mindedly began to caress his hardened prick through the pajamas, his mind churning with images of her: Wiffie nude; Wiffie in black lace; Wiffie in only a garter belt and net stockings; Wiffie lying on the bed, her legs over her shoulders and his cock sliding into her cunt.. .
The bathroom door opened, and he saw his bride silhouetted in the light that poured into the darkened bedroom. She was beautiful-more radiant, if that was possible, than she had ever seemed before. Her hair hung soft and loose about her shoulders, and her body was clad in a translucent gown of white nylon and lace that subtly accented the voluptuous curves of her figure, the pink tips of her breasts and her dark pubic triangle.
"You're beautiful," Hamp managed to whisper. He stood up and held out his arms as she walked ' oward him. He held her close when she entered his embrace.
They sat on the bed, Wiffie on Hamp's left, her face blushing pink as he looked down at her breasts and pubic patch through the sheer white fabric.
"I feel.. .silly," she said. "I mean, you've seen me lots of times, but tonight it's as if you'd never seen or touched me at all."
"I don't think it's silly," Hamp replied. His fingers slid up to caress the nipples of one nylon-clad breast. "I feel the same way-like this was the first time. like I'd never made love to you or.. .or felt your hand on my penis."
Wiffie leaned against his shoulder and let her right hand drift down to his lap. She ran her fingertips along the bulge of his organ. "I still think it's a little silly," she said as she squeezed the glans gently, causing him to tense with desire. "But it's still nice. Very nice."
Hamp slipped Wiffie's nightgown off her shoulders and stood back to watch as she pulled it down her body and let it drop to the floor. His eyes moved from her feet up the smooth young legs to the patch of bronze fur that shielded her loins. Then his gaze moved to the curve of her belly, and its sweet navel.
As his eyes beheld her breasts, he felt a lump grow in his throat. He thought of how those pretty tits would someday suckle a child. He stepped toward her and cupped a breast in each hand, and as he gazed into her eyes he bent slightly and kissed her on the forehead.
Wiffie pulled down the covers and slipped between the sheets. Hamp quickly removed his pajamas, walked around the bed and got in beside her. Almost shyly, he moved across to her, feeling the mattress rock slightly as she turned to him.
There was no cunnilingus, no fellatio, no entering from behind or in a sitting position or with Wiffie on top. All that could wait. For now, they would settle for a traditional, simple wedding night fuck.
It was a long one and a delightful one-a fuck that got their marriage off to an auspicious start. They came together, gently but entirely satisfied, and afterward they lay together, Wiffie's face pressed into Hamp' neck and her arms circling his hips. His hands rested on the dimpled cheeks of her smooth bottom.
"I feel like I've been deflowered," Wiffie murmured with a slight giggle.
Hamp was worried. "You mean it hurt?"
"Just a little. But only at first. It was psychological, I guess. Anyway...." She paused to kiss her husband. "I enjoyed every minute of it. I really did."
Wiffie giggled again and lifted her face so Hamp could let his tongue play over her open lips. They fell asleep together, content to spend the night in the same bed, with dreams of the fucks of the morrow, and of the wonderful life that surely lay ahead.