First Kiss, Last Virgin

The scent of lilies and pine hung heavy in the air, a saccharine sweetness battling the nervous anticipation thrumming through my veins. Three years, fifteen months – it felt like an eternity of breathless longing, stolen glances, and whispered promises. Finally, the vows were spoken, the rings exchanged, and we were officially husband and wife. Krissi’s hand trembled slightly as she clung to mine, her eyes brimming with a joy that mirrored my own. After the reception, a blur of champagne and forced smiles, we retreated to our hotel suite, a small, luxurious haven promising a night of intimacy and exploration. As virgins, we’d both made a conscious decision to postpone physical intimacy until marriage, a pact forged in faith and mutual respect. God was at the center of our relationship, and we sought solace and fulfillment in each other's presence.

Pulling up to the hotel, the rain began, a soft, insistent drumming against the tinted windows. The slick asphalt reflected the neon glow of the city, painting the world in shades of blue and pink. Inside, the suite felt both enormous and strangely intimate. Four and a half years of pent-up desire, carefully contained, now threatened to erupt. As I crossed the threshold, Krissi’s hand found mine, her touch sending shivers down my spine. A shared glance, a silent acknowledgment of the monumental shift in our lives, passed between us.

The room was bathed in the muted light of the rain outside. The plush king-sized bed dominated the space, an opulent invitation to surrender our inhibitions. As we settled in, a palpable tension filled the air, thick with unspoken expectations. I reached out, gently tracing the curve of her jawline, my fingers lingering on her soft skin. A tentative kiss followed, clumsy and hesitant at first, then growing deeper, more insistent. We both struggled to navigate the unfamiliar territory of shared intimacy, our bodies awkward and uncoordinated. My hand instinctively moved to her slacks, a primal urge overwhelming my control. Krissi’s fingers brushed against my penis, a shocking and exhilarating discovery. It was the first time anyone had ever touched me in that way, and the sensation ignited a fire within me, a desperate need to explore the boundaries of our newfound connection.

My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat accompanying the rising heat in my legs. I couldn’t help but feel an anxious excitement, a sense of anticipation for the delights that God had in store for us. As the kisses continued, Krissi suggested a bath, a welcome distraction from the mounting pressure. Reluctantly, I agreed, a small part of me wanting to prolong the anticipation, but ultimately succumbing to the desire for release. The bathroom was opulent, filled with luxurious marble and gleaming chrome. Krissi filled the tub with fragrant bubbles, creating a swirling oasis of warmth and relaxation.

Undressing in her presence was a strange and thrilling experience. The cool air on my skin, the feel of the silky robe sliding off my shoulders, all heightened the anticipation. Krissi emerged from the bedroom, her robe discarded, her body exposed in the soft light. She stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. A wave of insecurity washed over her, and I knew that she was grappling with the fear of being seen, of being vulnerable. Yet, my touch was gentle, reassuring, designed to ease her anxieties. I leaned in and kissed her neck, a slow, deliberate exploration that gradually escalated into something more passionate. With each caress, her defenses crumbled, replaced by a growing sense of trust and surrender.

As she hesitantly removed her robe, I took in every detail of her naked form, marveling at the perfection of her curves and the delicate blush of her skin. The sight was intoxicating, a testament to the beauty and power of the human body. Without a word, I reached out and touched her breasts, my fingers tracing the delicate contours of her nipples. It felt like an act of reverence, a recognition of her inherent grace. My hand then moved lower, between her legs, and I felt her tense beneath my touch. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Krissi, still visibly nervous, expressed her concerns about my size, wondering if I could even fit inside her. My response was a simple, confident assurance that God had created our bodies to complement each other, and that there was no need for fear. With a deep breath, I began to descend, carefully positioning myself between her legs. Her body tensed, anticipating the inevitable. As I moved further in, she let out a gasp, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Her hands gripped my slacks, pulling me deeper, while her other hand caressed my erect penis. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of sensation that sent shivers down my spine.

As we continued our exploration, Krissi voiced her discomfort with oral sex, expressing her fear of causing me pain. Understanding her apprehension, I shifted my focus to her clitoris, gently stroking it with my fingertips. The pleasure she derived from this intimate act was palpable, a silent testament to the power of touch. Her nails dug into my ass cheeks, demanding more. It was clear she wanted me to go harder.

The warmth of the water began to dissipate, replaced by a refreshing coolness. We both emerged from the tub, wrapping ourselves in soft towels and drying off. As Krissi lay on the bed, I took her into my arms, holding her close. I began to kiss her all over, my mouth exploring every inch of her skin. Her body responded with a fervor that matched my own, a desperate need for connection and intimacy. The anticipation of the next round was almost unbearable. As I held her, I noticed a small, dark spot on her chest. It was the result of her hymen rupture from the previous night. As I held her, I thought about the intense pleasure she had experienced, and how grateful I was that we had finally broken down that barrier.

Krissi, in turn, found herself overwhelmed by the depth of her feelings for me. She realized that she was no longer a sheltered virgin, but a woman completely and irrevocably in love. She held me tighter, whispering, “You’re amazing.” Her words echoed in my mind, a sweet affirmation of the powerful connection we had forged. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of our shared experience, we both knew that our wedding night was just the beginning of a beautiful and passionate journey. As the rain continued to fall outside, we drifted off to sleep, intertwined in a blissful embrace, united in the sacred trust of our marriage.

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First Kiss, Last Virgin

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