Italian Heat: A Wedding Night First

The scent of jet fuel mingled with the rich aroma of Italian leather and desperation hung heavy in the air of our private business class cabin. Just a few hours ago, I and my husband, Elvis, had exchanged vows, a beautiful, simple ceremony in a sun-drenched Tuscan vineyard. Now, we were hurtling through the night sky towards Rome, a secret, illicit pleasure simmering between us, a consequence of our shared, deliberate celibacy before the knot was tied. We’d been warned, of course, by our priest, Father Michael, that the heat of passion should be unleashed on the first night, a symbolic consummation of our vows. But we’d politely declined, preferring to savor the anticipation, the slow burn of longing, until the moment felt right. Italy, we’d decided, was that moment. A romantic backdrop for a primal, desperate need.

The plush velvet seats offered a modicum of privacy, a small island in the sea of slumbering passengers. But Elvis was relentless. His eyes, dark and intense, followed every curve of my body, every subtle shift in my breath. His hands, large and calloused from years of playing the blues guitar, moved over me with an undeniable hunger. He held me close, burying his face in my hair, whispering promises of pleasures yet to come. The air thrummed with unspoken desires, thick and tangible like the Italian wine we'd planned to drink later.

As the plane dipped lower, the moon cast long, dramatic shadows across the cabin. The champagne flutes, still half-full, reflected the dim light, mirroring the feverish glow in our eyes. The insistent hum of the engines faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of my own heart. I felt a strange detachment, as if observing myself from a distance, caught in the current of this overwhelming need. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly consuming.

“You’re beautiful,” Elvis murmured, his breath hot against my ear. He shifted closer, his weight pressing into me, making my hips arch involuntarily. His fingers traced the line of my spine, sending shivers down my legs. I arched my back, responding to his touch, desperate to feel the heat building within me.

He unzipped his tailored suit jacket, revealing the outline of his muscular chest. The fabric fell open, exposing his body, a testament to his strength and virility. The sight of him aroused me even further, igniting a fire in my belly that demanded immediate release. It was time.

“Let’s not wait,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the drone of the plane. “Let’s lose ourselves in the moment.”

Elvis’s eyes widened with pleasure. He gripped my waist, pulling me closer, his muscles tensing beneath his skin. He took a deep breath, savoring the anticipation, before plunging his hand into my jeans. The cool denim yielded to his powerful grip, and he began to unbutton my pants, one by one, each movement deliberate and sensual. My breath hitched in my throat as he worked, my body vibrating with anticipation.

The last button popped open, and he drew my pants down, revealing my pale, trembling legs. The cool air rushed over my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within me. He slipped my underwear off, pulling it away with a slow, deliberate motion. My white lace lingerie clung to my skin, a fragile defense against the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume me.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against my clitoris. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I gasped, my fingers digging into the plush velvet of the seat. He began to suck, gently at first, then with increasing intensity, exploring every inch of my most sensitive area. The pressure built, a delicious torture that brought me to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh, Elvis," I moaned, my voice thick with pleasure. "You're amazing."

His grip tightened, and he continued his assault, his tongue working its way around my clitoris, teasing and tantalizing. The pleasure was almost unbearable, threatening to overwhelm me completely. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation, letting go of all inhibitions.

Suddenly, Elvis pulled back slightly, as if considering a pause. “Bathroom?” he asked, his voice rough with need. “I want you now.”

It was the moment of truth. The precipice of release. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable. “Okay,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “Let’s go first.”

I rose from the seat, my legs shaky beneath me. The small lavatory was dimly lit, the scent of disinfectant doing little to mask the lingering aroma of arousal. I quickly washed my hands and face, removing my clothes, revealing my pale skin and trembling body. The cool air felt like a shock to my system, a welcome relief from the heat that had been building within me.

When Elvis arrived, he immediately began to rub my clitoris with his fingers, pulling gently at the sensitive flesh. The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers down my spine. He continued to explore, his hands moving with confident precision, searching for the perfect angle, the perfect pressure. The pleasure intensified, becoming almost unbearable.

He then removed my panties, pulling them down to my thighs, exposing my pale, glistening skin. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with desire, a silent invitation to continue. I nodded, unable to speak, my body screaming for release.

“Honey,” I whispered, my voice choked with pleasure. “I’m all yours. We’re married!”

Elvis responded by sucking and licking my clitoris with a frenzied passion. He found my special spot in no time, and the pleasure was overwhelming. I moaned, my body writhing in response to his touch. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of pleasure and release.

“Babe, I’m gonna cum…” he managed to gasp between thrusts. “Ahhh…”

The pressure built, reaching its peak, and then, with a final, explosive surge, I exploded right in front of him. I let out a primal scream, a release of pent-up tension and desire. My body convulsed, my muscles clenching and relaxing in perfect synchronization with his movements.

Elvis pulled back quickly to kiss me, his lips demanding and possessive. He kept me from moaning too loudly, savoring the moment, the culmination of our shared longing. We caressed each other a little longer, lost in the aftermath, before dressing and returning to our seats. The rest of the flight passed in a haze of lingering pleasure, a delicious memory to be carried with us as we finally descended into the vibrant chaos of Rome. The heat before the honeymoon had been an unforgettable experience, a testament to the power of desire and the joy of shared pleasure. But this was only the beginning. The true adventure, the full embrace of our marriage, was still to come. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that it would be even more intense, even more passionate, than anything we had experienced before.

Did you like this story? Italian Heat: A Wedding Night First look, but like these, here Sex stories.