Melody's Gift: A Virgin's First Kiss

The rain hammered against the windows of the luxury hotel room, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Melody, my new bride, lay beside me, her body a sculpted masterpiece beneath the thin cotton of the transparent negligée. Just hours ago, we had barely managed to consummate our marriage, our efforts thwarted by her exhaustion and a stubborn refusal to yield. Now, as dawn crept in, casting a pale, watery light across the opulent room, a desperate urgency filled me. I needed to reclaim what was rightfully mine, to finally experience the fulfillment of our vows.

Melody stirred, her eyes fluttering open, a hint of vulnerability in their hazel depths. Her Nordic beauty was undeniable, a stark contrast to the familiar comfort of my previous life. The memory of our first kiss, the fireworks of sensation that had ignited within me, still burned brightly in my mind. But it was a distant echo, overshadowed by the intense desire that now consumed me.

"You're awake," I murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of her golden-brown hair from her face. Her skin was cool to the touch, smooth and flawless, a testament to her daily miles spent swimming in the mountain streams. The memory of her porcelain complexion, peeking through the delicate fabric of the negligée, sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

"It was a terrible night," she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of shame. "I just couldn't... couldn't get there."

Her confession, so direct and honest, both surprised and thrilled me. It was a vulnerability I hadn’t anticipated, yet one that only served to intensify my longing. I gently cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs tracing the curve of her cheekbones. "Don't apologize," I said, my voice low and husky. "You gave me an incredible experience, even if it wasn't what we both had hoped for."

I rose from the bed, pulling on my soft blue boxers and moving towards the bathroom. The scent of her lavender shampoo lingered in the air, a sweet reminder of our shared intimacy. As I showered, I couldn't help but think about her past, the trauma she had endured as a young girl. It was a burden she carried silently, a weight that shaped her every move. My desire for her was fueled not only by physical attraction but also by a profound sense of responsibility, a need to heal her wounds and offer her the comfort and security she deserved.

Back in the bedroom, I waited patiently for her to change. When she emerged, draped in the same exquisite negligée, my breath caught in my throat. The sheer transparency of the fabric revealed her ample curves, her perfectly sculpted hips and thighs. It was a sight to behold, a testament to her dedication to fitness.

“Let’s try again,” I said, my voice filled with anticipation. “This time, let’s not let fatigue get in the way.”

As she lay beside me, I began to explore her body, tracing the lines of her spine with my fingertips, marveling at the sensitivity of her skin. My hands moved down her chest, over her nipples, then to her stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Her body responded eagerly, her muscles tensing beneath my touch.

I took a deep breath and pulled back the negligée, revealing my own arousal. My erection, hard and vibrant, felt like a tangible representation of my desire. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight, a mixture of surprise and pleasure on her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

As I began to move slowly, deliberately, down her body, she arched her back against me, her nails digging into my chest. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. Her breath grew ragged, her body shaking with each thrust.

Suddenly, she cried out, a sharp, desperate sound that ripped through the silence. I paused, my hands hovering over her body, unsure of what to do. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face flushed with exertion.

“Don’t,” she gasped, pulling away from me. “Just… don’t.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. It was clear that she was struggling to overcome the ghosts of her past, the memories of her abuse that still haunted her dreams. I knew I couldn't force her to give in, but I couldn't bear to see her in such distress.

I gently cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "It's okay," I said, my voice soothing. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

I leaned in and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed my love and support. It was a moment of connection, a silent promise that I would always be there for her, no matter what.

As I continued to caress her body, she began to relax, her muscles loosening, her breathing becoming more regular. Slowly, she pulled herself back towards me, her fingers interlacing with mine. This time, when I moved down her body, she didn't resist. Her clitoris pulsed with pleasure, her moans escalating in intensity.

We continued to explore each other, lost in a world of shared pleasure and intimacy. My arousal reached its peak, and I climaxed with a powerful surge of sensation, my muscles contracting violently. As I released, I felt a sense of release, a feeling of complete satisfaction.

Melody, too, let out a long, satisfied sigh, her body relaxing completely. She lay beside me, her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft light of dawn and the scent of her perfume, I realized that our marriage was more than just a physical union. It was a partnership, a shared journey of healing and growth. And as I held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, I knew that we would face whatever challenges lay ahead, together. The rain had stopped, and a single ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the room with a golden glow. It was a perfect start to our new life, a testament to the enduring power of love and desire.

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