Birthday Bride (4 page)

The
elevator doors finally opened, and Mark led the way down the hall towards the
room he got for us.  He swiped the keycard, and waved me through the door.  “Holy…
cow,” I stopped myself from swearing, in case that would gain me another
spanking.  Or maybe I should swear.  Geez, I was confusing myself.  I didn’t
know what to do.  Or think.  I was married.  Honest to God married.  To a guy
who wanted to spank me.  And have sex with me.  In this room. 

These
rooms, as it was a suite.  A really, really big suite.

“Mark,
this is bigger than my apartment.  How much is this costing?” I looked at him
with concern on my face.  All of us girls had chipped in on the suite we stayed
in, and even then, it was more than I liked to spend on a hotel room.

“Abby,
we just got married last night.  Regardless of what tomorrow brings, we’re
married today.  Let’s have a honeymoon and enjoy ourselves.  Each other.”

I
think I just fell in love a little bit with my husband.  Who, yeah, I had just
tried to leave, but I changed my mind again.  I’m female, I’m allowed.  I
swallowed, and took a step closer to him.  How do you ask the man you just
married to kiss you again? Where do the hands go? We’re going to be intimate,
probably pretty darn quickly, yet I was scared to reach out and touch him.

Mark
reached out and cupped my face in his hands.  I just about melted into the
touch.  His hands were large, like I had thought, and rough and calloused.  Not
sharp callouses, like the ones you get on your feet that snag nylons, but manly,
I-work-with-my-hands-and-I’m-not-afraid-of-it.  And they were warm.  By golly
they were warm and tender.  I couldn’t wait to have his hands touch my bare
bottom and warm it up more.  “You’re not just a virgin, are you?” I looked at
him in confusion.  “You’re innocent.  You haven’t done any of this before, have
you.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a comment.

I
wanted to look away, anywhere but at his deep blue eyes.  “You’ve done it
before.  Touched a woman, had sex with her.  Why would you want me? Wouldn’t
you prefer someone who has experience?”

“I’ve
done things in the military, things that you do in the moment during war.  I
wouldn’t want my new bride to have done those things, either.  And yeah, I’ve
had sex.  But I don’t plan on having sex with you.  I plan on making love to my
wife.  Do you understand the difference?”

I
blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from falling.  I’ve been waiting my whole
28–wait 29–years to find someone that would say that to me.  And the man that I
just met, just accidentally married, was saying it! Why on earth should I look
into how to annul our mistaken marriage? I nodded, not being able to say
anything.

“Do
you want to go freshen up?” He suggested gently.  I nodded again, and high-tailed
it past the half bath (in a hotel room?) through the combination kitchen and dining
room, past the living room, and into the massive bedroom.  I stood for a second
looking before finding the bathroom through the closet.  I closed the door
firmly behind me, and with a second’s thought, locked it.

I
stared at myself in the mirror.  My cheeks (face, not rear) were flushed.  Embarrassed,
or adrenaline?  Maybe both.

Can
I do this?  Did I really want to do this?  Mark–my husband–had just given me a
real spanking.  In an elevator.  I made sure the bathroom door was locked, and
lowered my jeans, checking my reflection in the mirror.  Slightly pink, but no
real evidence of the whacks I had just received.  I wasn’t even sure if I
wanted there to be evidence. 

I
leaned on the vanity, sticking my bare bottom out, looking in the sets of
facing mirrors.  This is what my husband sees.  This is what “does it” for him. 
I didn’t see the draw, but was that more because it was my own butt?  I had no
desire to spank him, or anyone else.  It’s not that it was a turn-off for me,
just not something that interested me.  But lying over his knee?  Oh yeah! Just
the thought of being over those muscular thighs, jeans and panties around my
knees, one strong hand holding me in place, the other calloused hand palming a
butt-cheek, that turned me on. 

So
yeah, I wanted this.  I wanted a real spanking.  Not a quickie in the elevator,
although that worked.  Not an in-public birthday spanking.  A real, bare
bottom, over the knee spanking.  Followed by sex.  No, not just sex–
love-making
with my husband.

Smile
firmly pasted on my face, I strode out of the bathroom.  I spotted the open
curtains in the bedroom, and headed over to pull them closed.

“What
are you doing?” Mark asked, curiosity tinged with amusement in his voice.

“What
does it look like I’m doing? Closing the curtains so no one sees my spanking.”

He
openly laughed.  “Abby, no one can look in.”

“I
can see the tower from here.  If someone looks our way, they could
theoretically see in.”

“I
can spank you in front of the window and no one would be the wiser.”

I
blushed, instantly hot.  “You wouldn’t dare,” I threatened, hoping he’d take me
up on it.  He lifted an eyebrow, and I tilted my chin defiantly.  What was I
doing? I was purposely antagonizing my husband.  I think he could tell I was kind
of joking, but I wasn’t sure.  That he could tell, or that I was joking, I mean.

Mark
quickly moved the ottoman into position closer to the window, and rested his
hands on the button at my waistband.  He looked up at me, his eyes questioning. 
I nodded wordlessly, any attempt at speaking frozen in my throat.  I can do
this.  I let him unfasten and lower my jeans, shimmying my hips to let him
easier get them past them.  In my dreams I was thin; in reality, I carried
around extra pounds.  I was more embarrassed to have him look at my naked butt
than to have him spank it.  I chuckled, thinking this was a good test of
whether he wanted to stay married to me or not.

CHAPTER 3

He
had my jeans and panties around my ankles and me over his knees before the
chuckle finished.  He placed his large rough hand on my bottom, and I did a
ragged intake of breath.  It was really going to happen.  Not a fun birthday
spanking, but a real, honest to God, bare skin spanking.  Mark seemed to notice
my hesitation, and just sat still, his hand rubbing circles on my skin.

Did
I really want this? I felt like I was standing on a precipice, about to jump.  There
would be no going back.  Yes, I could tell Mark to stop, and get a quickie
divorce to match the quickie wedding.  No doubts filled my mind on that–I trusted
him to stop.

The
air conditioner turned on, and blew freezing cold air right on my ass.  That
broke the tension–I squirmed, and asked Mark to turn it off.

“Trust
me, cold is not going to be a problem.”

With
no further delay, Mark started in with a good sized whack on the nearest cheek. 
I yelped and jumped.  He steadied his hand.  “You okay?”

Instead
of nodding like a bobble-head doll again, I lifted my butt up, awaiting the
next flash of fire.  He took the hint, and swatted the far cheek.

   
After the first few searing spanks, he lightened the blows for several, then a
few harder spanks.  He was right in that the air conditioning wouldn’t matter
to me anymore–all that mattered was the heat building on my rear and between my
legs.  My wiggling had caused my shirt to ride up around my throat.  Auto-asphyxiation
wasn’t on my list of kinks.  Not that I had a full list, but spanking was the
only thing on it.  “Stop,” I choked out, moving my arms to try to get the shirt
off.  Mark immediately stopped the spanking, and helped me remove the offending
piece of clothing.

He
gave me a few seconds to catch my breath, and warned me that he was letting me
catch my breath from being suffocated, not from being spanked.  Unsaid was the
implication that not only would he not give respite from a spanking, but I
shouldn’t try choking myself on purpose.  No worries on that front.

Mark
started back in while I was still ruminating, and my brain quickly went back
into spanking mode.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Ouch, it hurt! Yet as Glennys had
said, it was also quite erotic.  I don’t know what it is about the spanking
that’s such a turn-on.  The butt being an erogenous zone, being naked (at this
point, I had kicked my jeans and panties off), being on your spouse’s lap,
feeling your spouse’s erection pressing into your side, or the nearness of his
hand to my privates; they all come into play.  I’m sure it’s not for everyone,
but it was definitely working for me. 
Definitely
.

The
spanks started to slow down in frequency, and I could feel the air blowing on
my rear again.  Mark was right, the cold wasn’t an issue–in fact, it felt quite
nice.  I opened my legs a little wider, and started twitching when the air blew
across sensitive skin.  Calloused fingers spread apart my folds, and I left out
a shuddering gasp.  Oh.  My.  Mark barely touched my clit, immediately sending
me into the lovely spasms of an orgasm.  He steadied his hand so as not to
overwhelm me, and just let me ride it out.

A
few minutes later Mark picked me up and moved us over to the bed, him leaning
against the pillows at the headrest, me in his lap.  I relaxed into the cuddle,
and was about to fall asleep before I realized he was still hard.  This was so
contrary to everything I’d heard about men–my friends had said that taking care
of them happened after the guy had come.  Mark was delaying his pleasure for
me? I fell a bit more in love with my husband at that realization.

I
shifted to get more comfortable, and noticed I was sitting on a wet spot.  I
patted his shoulder with one hand to get him to release me, and moved off his
lap. 

“Oh,
God.  I got you all wet.”  I blushed, realizing that came out wrong.  “I mean,
I did that, didn’t I?”

Mark
wasn’t embarrassed, even though I was.  “Yep.” In fact, he sounded awfully
proud of himself.  “You know, you can take my pants off.”

I
can do this.  Brazened, I reached for the snap of his jeans, and undid it.  His
penis twitched under my hands.  I sat back.  “Maybe I’ll start with your
shirt.”

His
chest rumbled under my hands, and I thwapped him.  “Don’t laugh at me!”
Apparently smiling while saying that made my comment not faze him.  I pulled
his undershirt out of his waistband, and lifted both it and his golf shirt up
to his armpits, revealing a six inch scar on his chest.  I outlined the injury
gently with a fingertip.  “Will you tell me about it, sometime?”

He
hesitated. 

“It’s
part of you, and I want to know everything about you.”

He
nodded.  Good enough.

I
took his shirts off, and returned back to his jeans.  Taking a deep breath, and
I undid the zipper.  He lifted his hips, and I pulled the jeans down, leaving
the boxers in place.  I got the jeans off one leg, then the other, and sat
back, examining my husband.

A
fine specimen, indeed.  There was something about a man in–or  out of–a uniform. 
The military regimen kept Mark in trim shape.  He had broad shoulders, and now
that there were no clothes in the way, I could see a narrow waist to match.  The
dark blond hair on his head and five o’clock shadow was also echoed in his wiry
leg hair.  I ran a finger through some of the curls, and he jumped.  Ticklish?
That could be fun.

“Ahem. 
You missed a piece.” He thrust his hips up to draw my eyes towards his boxers. 
Not like I wasn’t already looking there.  I was.  I was just intimidated.  I’d
already admitted to being a virgin.  Did I have to spell out for him that he
was the first I’d be seeing in real life? I didn’t count Playgirls or movies.

“I’m
getting there,” I finally said, and grabbed one of his feet and gave it a
tickle.  Mark about jumped to the ceiling.

“Hey!
You just earned yourself another spanking!” His smile told me it was a fun
spanking, not a punishment.  If that’s the case…. I snagged his other ankle
before he moved it away.  “Don’t you dare,” he threatened.  “I’ve got no qualms
about making your other cheeks blush again.”

I
giggled, and climbed up him, settling my naked body down on top of his
partially clad frame.  Our lips joined, and we kissed.  Mark groaned in
pleasure as I ground my hips on top of his, giving his member the friction it
desired.  He cupped my buttocks, and the tender skin from the spanking made it
my turn to groan.  He slid a hand between us, and eased his dick out of the
boxers and at my entrance.  My clit was the next recipient of his touch, and I
leaned into the sensation, lowering myself slowly onto his entirety.

A
few seconds later, Mark said, “Now is when you move, Abby.”

“Oh!
Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” I started to lift off, but he grabbed my hips
and slammed me back down.  “Oh! Got it.” Apparently he didn’t need much
stimulation after all of our previous activities, because it didn’t take long
at all before it was his turn to come.

I
collapsed on top of him, enjoying his warmth and closeness, and I have to
admit, a certain level of pride.  I was a virgin, and an innocent virgin at
that, but I could still make my husband satisfied.