Ted's Virgin Valentine

The rain hammered against the windows of Ted’s expansive ranch house, mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart. October 2010 felt like a lifetime ago, a hazy memory of nervous excitement and the desperate hope that this would be different. Ted, my husband, my everything, had held me at arm’s length since the day we’d exchanged vows. Five months of courtship, a whirlwind of stolen glances and whispered promises, had culminated in a beautiful ceremony, followed by an agonizing silence. Now, here I was, still a virgin, trapped in a gilded cage of my own making.

The usual routine had dissolved into an unbearable monotony. Every evening, I’d retreat to my bedroom, a vast, opulent space that felt strangely empty without his touch. Tonight was no different. I’d switched off the lights, pulling the heavy velvet curtains closed, seeking refuge in the darkness. Then, a brush against my hand. A tentative, hesitant exploration that sent shivers down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it wasn’t him, that I could simply retreat back into the oblivion of sleep. When I opened them, he was there, a shadow in the dim light, his hand gently tracing the delicate curve of my wrist. Then, a slow, deliberate slide across my hair, followed by the soft caress of his fingertips along my neck. Finally, he moved lower, his hand finding the delicate swell of my hip. In that moment, panic gave way to a strange, exhilarating realization. I couldn’t run anymore. This time, I would surrender.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I allowed him to continue. Slowly, he stripped me of my defenses, pulling back my t-shirt and then my trousers. My skin prickled with anticipation, a mixture of fear and desperate longing. I found myself caught in the exquisite torture of waiting, watching as he moved with a slow, deliberate grace. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my nipple as he unclasped the delicate straps of my bra. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent it tumbling onto the plush carpet, a silent declaration of his intent. My eyes squeezed shut, tears welling up as he began to explore my body, his touch both gentle and insistent. It was my first time experiencing the raw sensation of someone truly touching me, truly knowing me.

The first suckle on my left nipple was a revelation, a burning, tingling pleasure that sent waves of heat through my core. He continued his exploration, switching between my breasts, a rhythmic dance of pleasure and anticipation. My body began to tremble, slick with sweat, as I lost myself in the intensity of the moment. The sensation intensified, and I let out a moan, a primal cry for release. He moved lower, his hand gliding down my abdomen, sucking with an almost violent eagerness. "Oohhhh, my God," I gasped, the words barely audible.

As he stood up, he ripped off my underwear with a surprising force, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He looked at me, his eyes dark with desire, a predatory gleam in their depths. It was as if he wanted to devour me, to possess every inch of my being. Humiliated but strangely thrilled, I instinctively curled my body, pulling my pussy back against my legs. He noticed my hesitation, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "Just fuck me," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. "Fuck me already." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing.

Without hesitation, he thrust his cock into my waiting flesh. The initial pain was sharp and intense, a searing agony that threatened to overwhelm me. But as he began to move, a strange shift occurred within me. The pain receded, replaced by a building wave of pleasure, an overwhelming sensation that stole my breath away. His hand rose up, closing my legs together and beginning a slow, deliberate rotation. The movement was both exhilarating and agonizing, sending waves of heat through my body. My screams echoed through the room, raw and desperate, a testament to the intensity of my experience. My body was soaking wet, slick with sweat, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

He continued his assault, pulling my legs apart and thrusting deeper, the rhythm becoming faster and more frantic. My moans grew louder, more insistent, as my body responded with a desperate hunger. The pain intensified, but now it was intertwined with an overwhelming sense of pleasure, a feeling I’d never experienced before. My world narrowed, focusing solely on the sensation between my legs, on the exquisite torment and the unparalleled joy.

As he accelerated his pace, taking almost everything, the pain became unbearable, but it was a welcome pain, a sign of his passion, his desire. Then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, he released, both of us collapsing onto the bed, gasping for air. We lay there for a long moment, our bodies intertwined, our hearts pounding in unison. He kissed me softly, a silent acknowledgment of the monumental shift that had just taken place within me. When he tried to withdraw, I pulled him back, clinging to him with desperate intensity. "Stop," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "No. Let it be. I liked the feeling."

"Okay, fine," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just start thrusting if you want more action." And with that, he resumed his assault, pushing deeper and faster, feeding my insatiable hunger until I reached the very edge of ecstasy. The world spun around me, blurring into a kaleidoscope of sensation, as we both lost ourselves in the depths of our shared pleasure. It was a night I would never forget, a night that shattered my inhibitions and redefined my understanding of intimacy, a night that finally, gloriously, set me free. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, in the opulent confines of Ted’s ranch house, a new chapter in our lives had begun, a chapter filled with lust, desire, and the intoxicating thrill of finally, truly, being known.

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