So I went for it. I was too desperate, too horny, and needed to sate myself, needed to get myself off as best I could using what was at hand. And if my new husband woke up midway, it’d just be an amazing surprise right? Any guy would die to be in his place.
So I crawled onto the bed, moving up his big body slowly, stealthily, careful not to disturb him. I crouched in a kneeling position, my legs spread over his face and braced one hand on the headboard for balance. With my other hand, I swept my panties to the side, baring my sweet cunt, my nether lips engorged, already dripping with cream and slowly, oh so slowly, lowered my pussy onto Gary’s face. I know I was taking advantage of him, taking advantage of a drunk man who could hardly protect himself, but still, what new husband wouldn’t die to wake up like this? It was like a dream come true, most dudes would eat it up, literally and figuratively.
So sinking down on my knees, I pressed my kitty against his face, wiping the soft flesh all over his cheeks, chin and mouth. And fuck, it felt good. Gary was snoring slightly, the air whistling between his lips, blowing a stream of cool air onto my cunt, and when I ground my pussy hard against his nose, he let out a honking snort, his eyes even flickering slightly.
I held my breath, going completely still. But Gary was too drunk to wake up, so I kept going, circling my kitty on his face, wiping my juices all over him, my little hand trailing across my clit as I ground onto his mouth, nose, and chin. And the magic started, a sizzling sensation began to burn deep in my snatch, emanating in waves out to my pelvic region, making my knees shiver, my tummy clench and shake with ecstasy.
And I let go then, both hands clutching the headboard as I threw my head back and screamed, boobies bouncing.
“Fuuuuck!” I shrieked. “Oh fuuuuuck!”
My pussy was creaming like mad now, there was so much juice that it was literally gushing all over Gary’s cheeks, his face completely wet and shiny from my cum, the nectar oozing down over his chin, seeping into his tux collar. But I didn’t care. This was my wedding night and I intended on having sex with my husband even if he couldn’t participate. So I came and came and came, grinding my kitty against him, drenching him, feeding him my nectar while he slept.
And Gary, that fucking slob, didn’t stir at all, not even a little bit. He was a dumb dunce, what guy doesn’t come to when your new wife pounds her pussy against you, yelling and screaming like a banshee, coating your nose and mouth with her honey? But Gary is a stupid fuck and just kept snoring, his eyes shut tight, probably dreaming of video games or some other lame shit. In retrospect, he was probably dreaming of his mistress but at that time, I had no idea about the betrayal to come.
So I just helped myself to a huge orgasm, grinding onto the handsome man’s face again and again. And after it was over, I shook myself off, spraying him with a few last droplets of cream before getting off and padding to the bathroom, my pussy satisfied and loose, but not quite loose enough. I wanted it loose from dick, from having a huge monster inside and hopefully my husband would be lucid tomorrow to really get it on, dick in twat style.
But there was no tomorrow. The next morning when Gary woke up, he groaned, sitting up, clutching his head like it was pounding.
“What’s that smell?” were his first words, his voice hoarse and raspy.
“What smell?” I asked innocently, blinking my eyes like a doe. I was already up and awake, dressed in a silk robe sitting at the small table in our suite, eating room service. “Maybe my eggs and bacon?” I asked, forking another bite into my mouth, savoring the mouth-watering Canadian ham. Our parents had gone all out, treating us to the honeymoon suite and I was enjoying the entire package.
But Gary groaned again, shaking his head, lifting the collar of his dress shirt to his nose for a sniff.
“No, that other smell,” he croaked again, eyes bleary. “It’s pungent but aromatic, really, really …” and his eyes widened suddenly.
“What is it?” I asked again innocently, biting into another forkful of egg. Mmm, this omelet was done just right, fluffy with a bit of cilantro for spice.
“Fuck, Laurie,” he growled, his eyes growing dark with rage. “Did you? Did you really …?”
But I wasn’t done playing with him yet.
“Did I what?” I asked, finally putting my fork down. “What did you want to ask me, honey?” I said sweetly.
And Gary jumped to his feet, his massive form shaking with rage, his face going beet red then deep purple, eyes bugging out.
“Did you come on my face last night?” he bellowed, heaving for air as he tried to get the words out. “Did you fucking orgasm on my face while I was asleep?”
And I nodded sweetly again, not at all intimidated.
“Yes, Gary. And it was wonderful, you were passed out so I figured I’d help myself to the goods,” I cooed. “I came not once, not twice, but three times, all without your help,” I added helpfully. “Your snoring is really arousing, by the way, the vibrations feel amazing on my clit.”
And my new husband lost it then.
“You fucking fucked my face while I was passed out?” he screeched, jumping up and down like a monkey. “Do you realize how wrong that is? We were saving it for marriage, we were supposed to take each other’s virginities, it was supposed to be a special time and you’ve fucking ruined it!” he screamed. “You whore, you slut! You’ve ruined it.”
But I just smiled. I swear, Gary was so handsome but juvenile sometimes. He should have thanked me for using him as my fuckdoll, how many guys ever got the opportunity? But I couldn’t get a word in because my new husband really flew off the handle then.
“I wish I’d never married you!” he screamed, yanking his wedding ring off and throwing it into the far reaches of the room, the metal band disappearing under some furniture. I sighed and rolled my eyes. At the time, I thought this was over-the-top dramatic given that we’d just lovingly exchanged vows not twenty-four hours ago in front of dozens of friends and family. But Gary couldn’t be stopped, he was serious.
“You better not be here after I get out of the shower,” he ground out, his face mottled, spittle flying from his lips. “Get the fuck out,” he raged before stomping into the en suite.
I just shrugged, not taking him seriously. I figured a hot shower would calm him down, help take the edge off the hangover, but that was my mistake because my new husband was actually dead serious. When Gary came out of the bathroom and saw me sitting there still, calmly finishing my breakfast, he stomped over to the closet and began throwing random things into a suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I asked, eyebrows raised. As a newlywed of twenty-four hours, I never expected what happened next, not in a million years.
“I’m leaving,” he stated coldly, not even looking at me. And I shrugged, not too worried. We’d had fights before and I figured Gary just needed to cool down, we were meeting some family for a post-wedding brunch in a few hours, surely he’d put on a smile and act like a happy groom even if he was still seething inside.
But no, Gary actually checked out of the hotel and disappeared. Just like that, he became an invisible man nowhere to be found, ignoring all my texts, my pleading voicemails, my desperate attempts to reach him. And I was really embarrassed.
“Where is he?” whispered my mom during the brunch. We were supposed to be celebrating our nuptials, but one half of the happy couple was nowhere to be found. “Your husband was drunk last night but still, honey, he should be here,” she said reprovingly.
“I know Ma,” I replied, whispering out of the side of my mouth. “But Gary stormed out this morning, raging mad, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Linda paused.
“But what did you fight about?” she asked, her eyes confused. “You were literally just married yesterday, this makes no sense.”
And I shook my head, shrugging, red coloring my cheeks. This was not the time to tell my mom, or anyone, that I’d rubbed my kitty on my groom’s face while he was sleeping. I’m not sure which
part was worse … that I’d done that to an unconscious man, or that my new husband, who was supposed to adore my kitty, had stormed out in anger after he found out.
So I just shook my head, shifting gears.
“I’m sure Gary will come around,” I said reassuringly. “He’s probably just running a little late, maybe he needs to get gas for the car.”
But to my utter embarrassment, that asshole didn’t show up. Didn’t come to his own wedding brunch, leaving me humiliated in front of assorted family and friends, making apologies and excuses when we should have been putting on a show as lovebirds, cooing at each other, romantic with stars in our eyes.
“Well,” said my mom tightly. “I hope this is a one-time thing for your sake.”
I nodded.
“I know, Ma, I know,” I said soothingly. “I’m sure Gary will come around, this was just an aberration, he’s usually really responsible and kind.”
But the look in my mom’s eyes wasn’t so sure. Maybe Linda knew something that I didn’t, or maybe it was the fact that she’s been married four times, but my mom’s instincts proved right. Because my new husband had gone certifiably crazy, he pulled the plug on our union just like that. Gary never moved into our new apartment, never moved his stuff in, never applied for the extra parking space we’d talked about. Instead, the incident on our wedding night opened a can of worms and I realized the man I’d married had been a mirage, a figment of my imagination.
Because almost immediately, gossip started circulating that Gary was seeing a pretty blonde thing on the side, someone young, perky and skinny, the whole boobs on a stick thing.
I was aghast, horrified and beyond hurt, the pain terrifying because it was so unreal. Maybe I’d fucked up during our wedding night, maybe I shouldn’t have face-fucked Gary while he was sleeping, maybe I’d crossed some invisible line and I was willing to admit that. But an affair? After we’d just been married? We’d literally just signed the wedding certificate, this was a nightmare come true.
And who the fuck was this chick? How had this blonde girl come out of nowhere? The ramifications left me gasping for air, a dying fish. We’d just celebrated our big day, how could this be happening?
But like a slow-motion car crash, news kept on filtering out and the house of cards came crashing down, lie after lie after lie piling upon one another, becoming a giant snowball of lies. Because Gary had known this girl for a while, she was a student at the community college where he taught, a tiny blonde thing who was barely legal, tanned and toned and skinny, probably weighing a hundred pounds.
And Gary really was fucking her. Really, truly fucking her, that “waiting until we’re married” spiel had been a giant deception because she was pregnant with his child, her tummy already growing big with a boy or girl, I have no idea which. And the realization was crushing. All the lies he’d fed me were just that, lies. There was no “special occasion,” no “special event” where we learned about each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, kissing passionately while bringing each other to our first orgasms. No, Gary had been pounding this other woman all along, spurting his seed into her so much to the point where she was actually pregnant, this ho was going to have the child of a married man.
So I was devastated, beyond terrified at what I’d discovered. I was a wreck, cold sweats pouring down my forehead, my knees, neck and back clammy and chill, my brain half-dead with shock. I thought about disappearing for a while, treating myself to the whole Elizabeth Gilbert Eat, Pray, Love world tour, but I don’t have that kind of money. I have a job, bills to pay, responsibilities, and I couldn’t just jet off for months on end while finding myself and rebuilding from the ground up.
So I stayed state-side and filed for divorce, like what a regular person does. I moved out of our joint apartment as soon as I could, as soon as the broker presented me with an option that was cheap and affordable. Sure, the fifth floor tenement wasn’t ideal because I didn’t want to live a student lifestyle again, but fuck, I couldn’t stay in that huge apartment anymore, not when I’d heard Gary was planning on moving his new paramour there, setting up a nursery for his new child.
So here I am. I’d just fucked my delivery man because I was starving for love, my marriage had been a complete sham, my life in tatters. My supposedly strong launch into wedded bliss had collapsed when brushed with a feather, and all that was left were broken pieces, my heart, my body, my soul shaken to the core, my belief in destiny and happily ever afters destroyed, my confidence in shreds. Even more perverse, I was a divorcee who was still a virgin. Can you believe it? It sucked, but I was ready to change that asap … hopefully, with a little help from my gorgeous delivery man.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tucker
The girl seemed to disappear into her head for a moment, her brown eyes going contemplative, shutting me out even though her body was still nude on the bed, spread out in its glory for me to see. It’s not that things were awkward, it’s just that the brunette seemed faraway, thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with our intimate session.
I decided to get things started.
“Hey, I’m Tucker,” I said, holding out my hand.
And she jolted a bit, looking at my big hand for a moment, staring before putting her soft palm in mine.
“Laurie,” she murmured, coloring a little.
Well, that was awkward. We were two strangers who’d just exchanged a shit ton of fluids while lying on a big queen size bed, and we were shaking hands like we’d just been introduced at a party. Um, yeah, awkward.
But I’m a guy who rolls with the punches, so I kept it going, casual, light-hearted, with some humor, oh yeah, a sense of humor never hurt.
“So how long have you lived here?” I drawled. I was completely naked but what the hell? I’d let her get an eyeful, appreciate my masculine form.
Laurie blushed again, this time trying to turn a bit so that the curve of her arm shielded her breasts, but I lifted an eyebrow as in, “Really? After all that?”
And the girl blushed even harder, but at least she stopped trying to hide herself.
“Moved in today,” she said ruefully, sweeping a hand towards the boxes outside. “I wanted to take a hot shower but couldn’t find any soap or shampoo so I had to call you guys for a special delivery. Guess it worked, huh? My soap and shampoo came,” she smiled.
I nodded towards the living room.
“Your package is the other room,” I drawled. “I dropped it as soon as the clothes came off, as soon as those jeans dropped off your bod. You always use jeans to cover yourself?”
And the brunette laughed then for real, throwing her head back, those curls a glorious mass down her back.
“The jeans were the only things I had,” she explained ruefully. “Honestly, everything’s super disorganized and shoved randomly into different containers, I probably have kitchen utensils mixed with books, it’s so messed up.”
“Well, you could have used the sheets on the bed to cover yourself,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Like a toga of sorts.”
And the girl colored again before smiling at me.
“I didn’t even think about that,” she admitted, staring at the pale yellow coverlet. “I guess I just grabbed the first thing at hand, and that happened to be my dirty jeans,” she said, pulling her mouth into a rueful grin. “Although these sheets are pretty dirty now too, I’ll have to find a spare set somewhere in the pile out there,” she sighed.
And I laughed a deep belly laugh then. These sheets were more than a little dirty, they were positively disgusting with our sex fluid. I’d come, she’d come, there were droplets of pussy juice and semen everywhere, not to mention the huge pool of sperm she’d been lapping not minutes before.
But there were more important things than laundry to think about now, so I tried to get to know her a bit despite the fact that we’d just fucked each other silly.
“So, where you from?” I asked casually. This was a pretty common question, no one was
actually from New York and I didn’t think it’d set off any warning bells.
But this girl was different.
“Um, the Upper East Side,” she hedged, not looking at me.
Okay, that was fine. Being a rich kid from UES was no problem, you couldn’t help what you were born into. But I could tell Laurie didn’t want to talk about it, so I went in another direction instead.
“What do you do for work?” I asked again, curious about the beautiful girl. Her job obviously couldn’t pay much, this place was really small and old, although it was spic and span. But I wanted to keep things light and besides, New Yorkers always ask each other about their jobs, sometimes even sharing salary information with complete strangers.
“I work for the City,” she said softly, looking at me. “Have you heard of HRA? We administer things like SNAP and public assistance.”
Oh fuck. Ms. Holmes was a real do-gooder because HRA stands for Human Resources Administration and SNAP was the City’s name for food stamps. Laurie was definitely into helping the downtrodden.
“So how’s the job?” I asked. “You’re probably an angel at work,” I added, “So many people must appreciate you.” Because although I never talked about it, once upon a time my family had used food stamps, there’d been a few times when we didn’t have enough to eat and the extra had filled a much-needed void.
And she smiled at me then.
“I do translation work,” she explained. “There are so many people who don’t speak English but need help accessing public benefits, so I help translate signs and brochures into different languages so that we can reach all New Yorkers.”
Delivering the Virgin: A Romance Novella Page 3
