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Chapter 8: Setting Off on a Fantastic Voyage
“Dace?” Her voice was very soft and meek as she snuggled closer to me in the car. We were alone together as we had never been before. We had left the wedding festivities behind and were off on our own as husband and wife, and she had been quiet for several minutes.
“Yes, my darling girl?” I had the impression that she was trembling a little, and waited for her to respond, but she said nothing. “What is it, Babe?” I leaned my head down to her even as I kept my eyes on the road ahead. She just snuggled closer as if somehow she could erase problems by getting closer to me.
“I’m so frightened, Dace! Is there something wrong with me?” It was a pitiable, child-like solicitation. Despite her very beautiful eyes – slightly darkened and lightly tinted for her husband – she was anxious and more than a little afraid of the unknown. As before, when she had nowhere else to turn, she was turning to me, trembling even as she trusted.
“You’ve never been in love before, have you, Christine?”
“But you said love wasn’t a scary thing, right?”
“Yes, that’s right, I did; and I am correct. Love is not a scary thing.” I knew that would not answer her doubts but it definitely would make her think. I let the silence draw out between us. She was looking up at me now, I could feel her eyes on me, questioning, and I could picture her face, tilted just a touch to the right, and her pretty big brown eyes clear and intense as she tried to follow me.
“What do you think is going to happen now? What is going to happen to you? You are mine now, we’re married, and you belong to me, body and soul.” I made my voice even and monotone, and therewith perhaps a little ominous, and intentionally left out of my statement any words of endearment. There was a long silence and she was still as a little mouse next to me. With my arm around her shoulders, I could feel her reaction. She did not try to pull away, but she was stiff and still, and as I took a turn off onto a quiet side street, I knew she was a little afraid of what was going to be. I pulled up under a long line of trees along a fenced open field and stopped.
When she seemed unable to answer me I tried again, “So, do you know what’s going to happen?”
Finally, she looked up at me, tears beginning to fill those pretty eyes, pleading and vulnerable.
“You don’t know, do you?”
Slowly, hesitantly, she shook her head, and then dropped her eyes to her lap, in what seemed to me a feeling of utter hopelessness and despair. Well, I figured, that was about as far as I needed to take her to make my point.
“That’s what makes you afraid right now, Christine. It’s just that you don’t know.” That did not seem to get through to her.
“Ask yourself this… What am I supposed to do now? He is my husband and I love him, but… what does that mean I have to do? What does it mean that he loves me, what will happen to me? Will he be kind and gentle with me? Do I think he will change now that I belong to him? Will he be rude and possessive and bossy? Will he hurt me?”
She was looking up at me now and I could read it in the expressive look on her face. Fear had been all too prevalent in her life over these last months, and I think I caught her concerns with my words. It seemed to show in her eyes.
“My darling girl, while there is much that you don’t know about the future, you may be assured that my love for you is full and rich and enduring… and you will be ever safe in my embrace. I will never hurt you so long as I can in any way keep from it; and as we walk together into our future, you may place your hand in mine,” and I laid my own hand in her lap, palm up and open to receive hers, “and you will find delight and fulfillment in our adventures together, and going onward will be more fun and joy than you can now imagine.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then down at my hand, studying it carefully and thinking, and then, soft and airy like gossamer on a summer afternoon’s breeze, a smile took the place of her doubt and anxiety, her pretty mouth curved upwards at the corners in that special way or hers, and when she looked up at me again her eyes twinkled, and she laid her one hand gently… confidently, in mine.
“Thank you, Dace.” Her words were crisp and a little formal, the way I had noted before when she was a little shy and wanted it not to show. “And your armor is shining very brightly today, Sir knight!” She liked to do things like that, play-act a little, in order to say things she felt and could find no other way to express. That also told me that her spirit was rebounding from her fear.
She was relaxing now as her confidence returned, and I drew her across my lap to hold her gently in my arms. As in times past she knew that as a safe haven and a shelter from all around her.
But it was not the same anymore. We both realized it would never be the same, though she had no idea at all what to do with that realization. Bayan Eskort I pulled her up to me and kissed her… kissed her as a wife, tenderly, gently, but too I could let it be a kiss that would both awaken her passions as a young woman and chase all her doubts away. Her reaction soon told me that it was every bit of that, and more.
Her face was flushed as we broke for air and her expression was just precious; surprised and shy, and aroused and wanting more all at the same time.
“You never…” she almost had to gasp, “you never kissed me like t h a t before!”
She was incredulous and wide eyed, but she had liked it, I could tell. Her experience with my kisses was a whole four days; and all up to now had been but a start, no more. Now was serious stuff, and she could feel it, and I sensed in her manner with me that she felt that. She clung to my arm to remain in my embrace.
“You have never before been my sweet wife; but from now onward I shall kiss you often and with great desire and enjoyment. Now you are My Pretty Little Vixen, spelt with capital letters, and with you and your love I am a very happy man.”
Her face and especially her eyes were always very expressive and open, and it showed that she was pleased to be in my arms.
“You are a delightful young lady, Babe.” I let my eyes roam over her face and hair. “You are even more delightful as my wife. Your beauty,” and I touched her nose with one finger, “and charms…” and traced the contour of her eyebrow, her cheek and mouth, slowly, tenderly, savoring each step of the way, “are simply….” – continuing down her slender throat and across the swell of her breast – “enchanting.” Gently and slowly I traced a little circle on her dress around the swell of her breast, intentionally avoiding its peak, and then – feeling her gasp for breath at the sensation I was creating – down under, and opened my hand to encompass her breast tenderly. “Simply enchanting,” I repeated again, lifting her and squeezing slightly.
Her grasp of my jacket’s arm had become desperate as the intense sensation of pleasure at my caress rifled through her, her dark lashes fluttered closed. A pleading cry escaped her as she tensed with pleasure and then thrust her breast higher into my grasp. She was spectacularly beautiful to behold.
With her breast in my hand, covered only by the single thickness of her wedding dress’s soft satin, I held her close for a time and she surrendered herself willingly to my lingering caress. I enjoyed both holding her beautiful breast in my hand as well as her very passionate response, pushing herself into my embrace. She was very much mine. Her eyes were soft and cloudy and her breathing was unsteady. After a time of holding and caressing and stroking softly I moved my hand down to her waist and then her hip and onto her bottom, pulling her closer to me, and holding her.
She snuggled close to me as if her very life depended on it.
Parked in the open like we were was hardly private and, even if we were very much alone on a little traveled country road, it had never been my style or desire to see my sweetheart indisposed in public. She was not so very indisposed in reality, but she was very much lost to my caresses and I probably could have done most anything with her; but I just held her in my arms quietly for a long while to savor and cherish her surrender to me and allow the moment’s electricity to drain away somewhat. It had surprised me, a very pleasant and delightful surprise, I can assure you, but a surprise nonetheless that she would be quite so very responsive and accepting, and in such a feminine way. Somehow, one can endure such surprises, even welcome them!
I was sure no fellow had ever kissed her before, nor touched and fondled her breast like I had, and just as sure that the pleasure of her own body‘s physical reaction very likely surprised and overwhelmed her, perhaps even scared her in its intensity. She was, so far as I could determine over these months together, however much she may have learned from reading and watching, a very innocent virgin in literally all matters of love and intimacy. Quiet and shy now, she relaxed in my arms much in the way she had several times since that very first day in the motel. However, it was very much different now, for both of us.
Holding her like that, I pulled all the clips from her hair and raked her tresses free and loose, enjoying the feel of her silken locks running through my fingers. We were on our own time schedule, so there was nothing pressuring us, and she seemed to love it that I would undo her hair and sort of take possession of her like that, and play gently with the silken curls behind her ear, and pamper her like that.
When I leaned over slightly to kiss her on the cheek I could tell she was not asleep and that her cheeks were flushed and hot, but she buried her face against my chest, snuggled closer, and made no move to sit up. Laying there on the Anadolu Yakası Escort seat, I could see her long legs in her lightly shaded nylons and her bare feet – she always slipped her shoes off in the car – and the entire attitude of her body was different somehow, wanting in a very feminine way to be mine and close to me. How to describe that exactly remains elusive, but the sensation of her desire to be close… to continue the intimacy to which I had introduced her… was a tender, sweet, trusting expression of a delicate, loving, and very feminine girl, and a delight to my heart simply beyond words.
Our kiss and my caress had altered her being in some almost imperceptible way. In a very real sense our marriage had, of course, removed a barrier between us and freed us both to express our love and devotion for each other. Looking back afterwards now, I can see that my kissing her and caressing her like that was for her very much as had I in those tender moments together stripped away from her every reservation and restriction to our intimacy. Though I had held her before in my arms, this time I had moved beyond… and our kiss and my taking her breast in my hand and arousing her, my playing in her hair… these were acts of dominion, if not domination, that initiated her, awoke and claimed her passions, invited her participation and even submission, and somehow in her own mind perhaps granted her approval of her responses to me and my tenderness.
It is hard to know precisely to what degree her personal standards and sheltered education had kept at bay any sensual stimulation of her body, but on this occasion her very existence changed and the stimulation of my hand on her pretty and very sensitive breast was clearly welcomed right from the first moment as an act of love, and not interpreted as an invasion or an intrusion. That I considered a major achievement on my part.
After a time just resting in my arms she did sit up, still aroused, rosy cheeked, and a little embarrassed. I knew she would be, since she had lost control of herself entirely as I caressed her. I let her wiggle about and straighten her dress and recover the decorum of propriety because that would be for her a stabilization of the situation and allow her to be herself. I knew, nevertheless, that we could never go back… forward, together, into our future was the only way. After a little pause I leaned close to her, “I love you, my pretty little vixen. You’re even prettier when you’re aroused like that.” There was an innocent, very soft luster in her pretty eyes, and I thought my words would make her blush again, and they did.
“What did you do to me?” Her tone matched the expression on her face, full of wonder and delight at what had happened. It was as if she were trying to determine the cause of an earthquake, and had not a clue where to start. Of course, in a real sense, she was… and did not.
I took my time answering as I started the car and continued. “A man says I love you to his wife in many ways… sometimes in deeds, often with words, maybe a flower, sometimes with his fingertips, sometimes… ” I kind of left the cataloging unfinished, “and when a wife knows her husband loves her as she loves him his fingertips can be very welcome messengers of his heartfelt feelings for her.”
She took that aboard studiously as had I been her Philosophy professor at the lectern. The silence drew out a little, and I could tell she could not find anything to say. She had snuggled up to my side again, like she belonged there, and the nice thing was that now she did.
“Expressions of love can be tender and fun and joyful for both the husband and the wife.” Had she been in class she would have been writing as quickly as she could manage. “Expressing love helps us to be draw closer to each other, and become more open and confident with the other.”
I could tell she thought about that for a long time as we drove along in the early evening quiet, but also she sat closer to me than before, and snuggled sweetly under my arm, wanting it around her shoulders.
The trip to our honeymoon hideaway was not quite an hour or so. I had found, after some searching, a suitable place in one of the former officers family quarters at one of the old Army coast artillery installations long since a state park and rented out to families and what all for days and weeks at a time. Often in these large old homes two or three families would get together for a reunion or such activities. In this case, after discussing the amenities, I rented the entire house for two weeks. It was the last one in a row off the parade grounds and set off and apart somewhat, and looked out over the broad expanse of Puget Sound. Solitude and privacy! We could walk to the cafeteria for meals or bring our own or order take out delivered from town nearby. Victorian age furnishings throughout; upstairs four big bedrooms, two with king sized beds, a master bath with spacious stall shower and Jacuzzi; Pendik Escort below a large living room, full kitchen and dining room. Space, access to nature and interesting places to walk and explore, magnificent scenery, fresh air and pleasant surroundings in which to loose ourselves together.
For purposes of security I had traded in the white suburban for a dark gray one the week before; planning for our honeymoon, Christine had cleverly put together about four days worth of food – an assemblage of fresh fruits, selected canned goods, raw vegetables and greens, sandwich makings and condiments with milk and yogurt and juices in the cooler. We brought along only casual clothes and walking shoes. This was to be a respite from the world time.
We stopped at the gatehouse and the lady had our email registration already completed and, through the open window on the driver’s side, handed me the keys to the house with the maps and such stuff and a cheerful greeting. Ten minutes later were inside in the waning light of day with the sun out over the water just dropping below the horizon to the west. It was absolutely perfect.
We stood together in the evening’s fading daylight, looking at our surroundings and leaving the world behind us. Then I scooped her up in my arms and she squealed with delight as I carried her up the steps to the verandah, to the door, and then through it over the traditional threshold. We were in our first abode as husband and wife. We giggled together and laughed and her fears of the past seemed to be forgotten. We dashed out to the car quickly to bring in the essentials… her flowers and her tote, the food cooler and one suitcase of basic stuff.
“Dace?” She came to me meekly, standing in front of me in her brilliant white satin dress. We were in the middle of the kitchen and all the stuff in the cooler was put in the reefer, the rest could just wait. She had her red roses in a vase with fresh water and had set it on the table and arranged the blossoms to her liking, and now she wanted my full attention. She looked up into my eyes, just as pretty as the breaking dawn of a new day, “I don’t know what’s going to happen… but I’m not afraid anymore, because…” and I saw the cute little smirky smile, “because I know you love me.”
She had taken my one hand in hers and held it sweetly, opening and closing my fingers in hers as she spoke. She was quick as a wink to learn; but still anxious and just trying to be brave. I smiled down at her, and she welcomed my touch with a gasp at first, then little sigh of pleasure and her dark lashes drooped softly as she felt my fingertip stroking her breast lightly.
We lit candles in the bathroom and one bedroom, just a few, to allow us to make our way in the darkness, little ones that burn out in about an hour on their own.
I was correct in anticipating that nudity would be a challenge for her at first, though she wanted now, bravely, to be with me. I could see it. I discarded my jacket and tie and then pulled her close. She was trembling as I zipped her dress down her back, but quieted in a moment as she felt my hands on her bare back for the very first time, caressing her softly.
“You are,” my throaty voice sounded subdued in her hair, “so very pretty, Christine. You have the most charming curves.” I pulled her dress down off her one shoulder and kissed her bare skin tenderly, her shoulder and then her neck behind her ear where her downy soft curls just begged attention. She laid her forehead on my chest as her breathing came in shorter breaths. After gathering her courage, I think, she leaned away a little and I held up her dress as she, with just the slightest hesitation, let it fall away from her in front. With a little urging, she stepped shyly out of her dress as I held it up, and she clung to my arms for support.
Under her wedding dress, I was pleased to find, she wore only a light cotton camisole top and a loose-fitting pair of cotton briefs, and to see her in the soft candlelight like that, wanting to be mine and feeling so shy and vulnerable with me, was just fantastic. For all her desire and forethought, her shyness remained and she could not look up at me at first. I laid her dress aside on the chair carefully and turned back to her and shed my shirt quickly, then lifted her camisole up from below and she raised to arms in sweet surrender to my possession, and held them above her head as I cast the fabric aside. Her breasts were exquisitely full and delicately rounded, flawless and smooth, with tiny little nipples nestled in a rosebud of soft pink at each tip, and inviting my touch and caress.
In just her panties now, standing before me in her bare-breasted glory, she waited timidly, hoping for my approval.
“Ooooh,” I crooned softly in response, “my pretty little vixen is a very pretty little vixen, indeed.” and I could see just a shadow of an impy little smile curling the corners of her mouth, despite her shyness with me. There is an art to complementing a woman; and some moments are critical to her psyche and can not be ignored or misused. I wanted her to know I was pleased with her… I wanted very much, regardless of her shyness, that she never doubt for a moment that I was pleased with her… very pleased!
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