Marked by the Keeper

The first time I saw him, I was twenty-two, a fresh graduate with a world of possibilities stretching before me. I knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within my soul, that he was “the keeper,” the man destined to be my husband. For years, I had pleaded with a higher power, a force beyond my comprehension, to reveal to me my life partner. I spent countless nights in silent prayer, begging for a sign, a divine intervention that would illuminate my path. I envisioned a dramatic event, a bolt of lightning splitting the sky, a thunderous voice announcing my future. But instead, I received only silence, a frustrating lack of clarity that gnawed at my spirit.

As the years passed, I grew disillusioned. The men I dated, while pleasant enough, failed to ignite the spark I craved. They lacked the depth, the intensity, the sheer magnetism that I sensed within him. Eventually, I succumbed to the bitter realization that marriage might not be part of my destiny. I indulged in a series of passionate encounters, each one a fleeting attempt to fill the void in my heart. But none of them truly satisfied. They were just temporary distractions, unable to quell the longing for something more profound. Finally, I admitted defeat. I humbled myself, acknowledging that my future lay beyond my own control. I resolved to trust in a higher power, to relinquish my agency and allow fate to unfold as it may. If marriage was to occur, it would be orchestrated by a divine hand, guided by a force far greater than my own desires. I folded my hands in prayer, offering a solemn promise: the next time I engaged in sexual activity, it would be with the man I was meant to marry.

Then, one fateful afternoon, he appeared before me. He walked casually past my table at a bustling cafe, a brief glimpse of a dark, handsome face that instantly stopped my heart. It was as if a lightning bolt had struck, not just in my heart, but throughout my entire being. The sensation was overwhelming, a visceral surge of recognition that left me breathless. The next day, I deliberately sought him out, determined to continue the conversation we had begun. It turned out that we were both assigned to the same company in Japan, a detail that felt strangely preordained. But our positions were abruptly terminated just before our relocation, leaving us both stranded in unfamiliar territory. I changed careers, opting for a more lucrative opportunity here in the states, while he found a comparable role, a twist of fate that brought us back together.

From that moment on, we were inseparable. A month later, at a lively gathering of friends, he turned to me with a hopeful expression and posed the question that would alter the course of my life: "Will you marry me?" The weight of the words, the magnitude of the proposal, crashed over me like a tidal wave. All my life, I had yearned for this very moment, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. And now, he was offering it to me. Of course, I accepted without hesitation. The following month, we exchanged vows before a Justice of the Peace, sealing our bond with a simple, heartfelt ceremony.

Our first intimate encounter took place on our wedding night, under the watchful gaze of a brilliant sunset. We decided to stroll along the beach, hand in hand, as the golden orb descended below the horizon. The air was biting cold, so we wrapped ourselves in blankets, sipping champagne to ward off the chill. As we sat together, lost in the beauty of the scene, I couldn’t help but reflect on a youth group meeting I had attended years ago. The leader had spoken a profound truth: “If you pray, God will return your virginity. Truly ask his forgiveness. Because those of you who have been sexually active, you are like a piece of duct tape; once you stick it to so many things, it loses its effectiveness. And that is how your sexual experience will be, but pray to God, and he will return those feelings of the first time.”

Determined to honor the words of the wise leader, I poured out my heart to God, begging for the opportunity to experience the raw, untainted pleasure of our first time together. I envisioned a world where our love would be pure and innocent, free from the complications and disappointments of past relationships. As we continued our walk, he gently pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine. It was a kiss that ignited a fire within me, a warmth that spread through my veins like molten gold. With each passing moment, the heat intensified, building into a crescendo of desire. As he pressed his body against mine, I felt his penis hardening, a signal that our time together was about to become truly memorable.

It took my breath away. I had never experienced such intense pleasure, such a primal connection with another human being. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, pulling me into a vortex of sensation that threatened to consume me entirely. As he continued to kiss me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, I felt an overwhelming urge to lose control, to surrender to the moment. “I could come just from your kisses,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Well I plan to do more than kiss you," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, electric with unspoken desires.

Without a word, we sank to the sand, him on top of me, his throbbing penis a constant reminder of the pleasure to come. I couldn't wait to lose myself in the sensations, to experience the complete surrender of my body and soul. As he rolled off of me, we unbuttoned our clothes, revealing our nakedness to one another. The sight of each other, vulnerable and exposed, filled me with a sense of both excitement and trepidation. I looked at him, and he looked back, our eyes locking in a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection we shared. It felt as if we were returning to a time before time, a primal reunion between two souls destined for one another.

I took his penis in my hands, gently stroking it with reverence. His moans, a symphony of pleasure, melted away any lingering doubts I might have had. Then, with a surge of instinct, I straddled him, rubbing his penis against my vagina. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through my entire body, igniting a fire that threatened to consume me. I was so wet, so incredibly aroused, that I felt completely lost in the moment. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in a shared ecstasy.

He told me to wait, requesting that I straddle his face. Oh my god! His tongue felt like velvet against my sensitive areas, slipping in and out with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Never before had I felt so utterly consumed by pleasure, so completely immersed in the sensation of being desired. As I sucked his penis, hoping to reciprocate the pleasure he gave me, I realized that this was the true essence of intimacy, the ultimate expression of love and lust.

Next, we rolled over, and he took each of my breasts in his hands, gently sucking each nipple as if they were the keys to unlocking my deepest desires. My vagina burned with anticipation, a fiery inferno that demanded release. I practically screamed, “Please put it in me!” His response was immediate and enthusiastic, and as soon as his penis crested the lips of my vagina, I knew that this was the moment I had been waiting for. It was an explosion of sensation, a torrent of pleasure that left me breathless and gasping for air. I asked him to take it out and put it in again, craving the intense pleasure he had just bestowed upon me. This, I knew, this was how sex was supposed to feel, the ultimate expression of our shared passion.

Lost in the intensity of the experience, I didn’t realize how quickly time was passing. We continued to engage in our lovemaking, unable to get enough of each other. As he slid his penis deeper and deeper into my vagina, I felt a welling up inside of me, a surge of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. Finally, I had an orgasm from intercourse, a release that felt both euphoric and exhausting. I always had to masturbate to reach orgasm before, so this new sensation was an exhilarating revelation. It was as if my body had given all it had to offer, and now it desperately wanted to replenish its reserves, to experience the full spectrum of pleasure that our love had to provide.

The keeper pulled out and began licking me, his tongue tracing every curve and contour of my body. He continued to penetrate me with his tongue as I came again, lost in a world of pure sensation. Then, he put his penis back inside of me, and with his last, final thrusts, completed the experience. I loved everything: the weight of his body, the intoxicating scent of his sweat, the pounding of our hearts as one. This, I knew, was the beginning of a beautiful and enduring love affair.

Twelve years later, my favorite feelings of sex with my husband are the initial entry and the feeling of being full of his semen. I am getting hot just thinking about this. I think I am going to masturbate now and be hot as hot for the keeper when he gets home for lunch.

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