juice. Once the bubbly started flowing, the evening began in earnest. By the time the almond-vanilla frosted carrot cake had been eaten, toasts made, dances danced, and the boat finished sailing around the marina and docked outside the Ritz-Carlton, folks were speculating on who could get married next so they could have an excuse to enjoy such fun all over again.
Cy and Hope faced each other in the middle of the king-sized bed. Maria, Cy’s housekeeper, had cleaned up the day’s mess and, with Frieda’s help, had set a romantic stage in the bedroom, with candles, orchid petals, and burning, scented oil. The newlyweds each held a glass of sparkling champagne with bobbing strawberries. Both were naked, having enjoyed a relaxing, sensual bath in the penthouse Jacuzzi. They’d explored and pleasured each other’s bodies. Their senses heightened by months of agonizing celibacy, the first orgasms came quickly. It was just the beginning, though. Cy planned for Hope to be thoroughly satisfied from head to toe before the night was over. Hope had likewise secretly vowed to make her husband’s pleasure her singular focus, believing that if she took care of his needs, she too would be satisfied.
“A toast to you, Mrs. Hope Taylor,” Cy began, “the woman of my dreams.” He reached out and gently pinched her nipple, which took notice immediately. Hope’s quick intake of breath made him smile. He leaned over, nipped it, licked it, and continued. “It will be my life’s mission to make you happy, woman, to satisfy you in every possible way. I’m so happy you’re in my life, baby, and I will spend a lifetime trying to repay you for how happy you’ve made me.”
Hope drank in his words of love. She tried not to cry—there had been enough tears for the day. But she was so happy, beyond her wildest imaginings. She took a breath and returned a toast of her own. “When I prayed to God for a husband, it was you I longed for in my heart. I didn’t know your name, or what you looked like, but I knew how I’d feel when I was near you…like I do right now. I love you, baby.”
They raised their glasses and toasted new love. Finishing quickly, they fed each other the strawberries, followed by passionate kisses. Hope felt desire pool in the pit of her stomach, and spiral lower. Cy moved over and placed Hope in the middle of the bed. He straddled her, lay full weight on her body. His shower of kisses began. He kissed her lavishly, their tongues dancing, dipping, the heat rising. He kissed her eyes, ears, neck, before lifting up a bit to move down farther. He grabbed her perfect breasts in his hands, tasted and blew on them softly. A quiet moan escaped from between his lips as he eyed the feast that had been set before him. Hope writhed beneath him, her hands in his hair. His exploration continued as he kissed her stomach, her navel. He nipped her hips playfully, causing bubbling laughter from his bride. “Ooh, that tickles, Cy.”
“Hmmm…” was his quiet reply as he continued his journey, down into the valley of her paradise. He sighed softly. He would especially savor this moment. Placing soft kisses into her furry mound, he gently spread her legs. Hope was beside herself with anticipation. For so long she’d waited, dreamed, desired, yearned for her man. Cy took his time, honoring every crevice with skilled finesse. It had been a long time, but just like riding a bicycle…He alternately licked and kissed her inner walls, flicking her love button with his tongue. Hope’s escalating moans assured him his skills had not diminished from lack of use. She tried to move from his sexual assault but he simply changed positions, placed her on her side, grasped and gently lifted her thigh, and licked a slow, wet journey down the crevice of her lush buttocks before thrusting his tongue deeper into her hot feminine flower. It was a delicious way of making love, the best Hope had experienced. She grabbed Cy’s head, grinding her hips against his mouth, murmuring his name over and over. Her body shook with another release, and Cy drank her as he would the finest nectar.
Only after he was satisfied that Hope had reached multiple climaxes did he prepare for the next step in their love dance. He rolled over, preparing to position Hope on top of him. But before that happened, Hope had rolled over to begin her own kissing assault. Cy was pleased. He knew they were matched sexually, had the same tastes. Yes, he thought as Hope grabbed his manhood and lavished her praises. He sighed deeply as she rolled her tongue around the tip of his dick before taking him into her mouth, worshipping at Cy’s penile paradise. Cy closed his eyes and smiled. Yes, he thought as Hope showed her love. We are a perfect match.
Their mating dance continued into the early morning hours. Cy took his time as he entered her, aware of his size and Hope’s years without sex. Not until she was totally ready did he join them in divine union, complete oneness. Hope was not able to hold back the tears then, crying in ecstasy, holding Cy tightly. Cy was an exquisite lover, his long, thick manhood at times fast, forceful, and plunging, and then slow and steady. Their lovemaking took on a variety of rhythms, in a variety of positions. As streaks of dawn announced the coming day, Cy turned on his side, pulled Hope into his arms and held her firmly, possessively. Hope nestled back against the hard chest of her man, rested her arm on top of his. Mr. and Mrs. Cy Anthony Taylor had chosen to wait until marriage to experience this oneness. It had been worth the wait.
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