Virgin Honeymoon (The Honeymoon Diaries) (4 page)

“Uh-uh. No hiding,” Sean orders.
 

It’s hard. Sooo hard to just be
naked
. I know I’m the way God intended me to be but I’m self-conscious about the extra weight I carry in my mid-section. And I realize what I’m doing and remind myself to turn my insecurity over to God. I’m
 
created in His image. I am enough, just as I am.

I lower my leg and force my hands to my sides as Sean requests, but I close my eyes the moment I feel his big palm slip down my chest, the way eased by the oil. He runs his palms back up to my shoulders and then down my arms, all the way to my fingertips, focusing on those areas until I relax a bit. Only then does he move lower over my breasts, plumping them and holding them together while tweaking his thumbs over the tips.

I lift my lashes high enough to watch him and find him staring at my face, gauging my reaction? “I’m the blushing bride,” I whisper. “If you’re looking for instructions I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sean smiles and winks at me.
 

“You did pretty well figuring things out this morning,” he tells me.

That I did. It might have been a first for me but it definitely wasn’t going to be the last time I make Sean come that way.

Sean scoots backward on the mattress, massaging my thighs and calves, returning to my inner thighs again and again, his fingers occasionally straying to graze the strip of hair between my legs. Once, he even palms me, rubbing the coconut oil into my warmth with tantalizing strokes.
 

I’m left gasping and struggling for composure when Sean says, “Roll over.”

I roll onto my stomach and he starts the massage all over again, neck and shoulders, arms. He skips over my buttocks and gives my legs a thorough rubdown, but once that’s done he lingers on my lower back, using another handful of oil on my rear, his fingers slipping between the crevice and drifting low to graze my clit again.

“My turn,” he tells me.

I’m more than a little shaken and turned on, but also shocked by Sean’s ministrations to my behind and how fast my heart races as a result.
 

I crawl over him. Face down as he is, I’m not worried about Sean watching me so it makes it easier for me relax and get into the experience of naked, oily, rubdowns. Giving Sean a massage is fun. Before assuming the position on his belly, he shoved his swim trunks low. And because it is my turn, I take full advantage, touching spots I know turn him on, and ignoring his attempts to roll beneath me so that he faces me.

“Sweetheart, have mercy.”

I lean over and press my breasts to his back and as I do so I notice a teeny, tiny opening between two of the cabana’s drapes. The opening is nothing. Barely there. But I can see the sun’s rays and the blue sky and even movement as people walk by on their way to the surf.
 

I freeze for a second, shocked and afraid to move. I should get up. Close them completely. But I don’t. No one can possibly see into such a tiny space but something about the thought of being watched while I make love to my husband... “Twenty-five years of virginity,” I whisper to Sean, my mind shocked and yet thoroughly intrigued. Continuing our play feels daring, and my heart races with need for him. “How long can you wait?”

Sean groans but stays face down, his fisted hands and corded arms revealing his struggle to maintain control.
 

I shift sideways and scoot down a bit to continue my work, but wind up gasping at the sensation. I’m naked, Sean’s taut, firm buttocks beneath my spread legs. When I moved my clit slid over Sean and... It feels so good I closed my eyes and lower a bit more of my weight on him, until I touch hard core muscle.
 

I’m not torturing him, I’m torturing myself, and just then I imagine someone outside that tiny slit, watching my reaction as I rub myself against my husband. A quick glance reassures no one is there but it doesn’t change the way it heightens my desire.
 

“Yes, love. Do it. Make yourself come.”

Mortified that he’s read my thoughts, felt me rubbing against him, I slide off of Sean and say, “Turn.”
 

The moment he’s comfortable on the cabana mattress I take his cock in my oiled hands and slick them up, all the way to the head, and down again. I love watching Sean’s response. Love the sight of my man in my hands. Sean’s nostrils flare and his chest expands in a deep inhalation, all due to my touch. Sean tugs at my leg and I welcome his help in straddling him once more. He slides inside me without hesitation, the oil easing the tightness and allowing him to glide deep.
 

I’m tender still but not sore. And, oh, it’s good.
 

“You can rub yourself against me while I’m in you, make yourself come,” Sean says to me.
 

I wet my dry lips and make that first motion, opening my mouth to draw in more air because he’s right and it feels so, so good. Every time I bear down and he thrusts deeper into my body, I’m stretched to the max around him. But it’s more than that. My clit touches his body with every stroke and the sensaton of sliding against him is unbelievable. I linger over the act, unable to help myself.

“Ah, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. Grind down. You won’t hurt me, just do what feels right.”

I feel awkward. Ungraceful. But I can’t stop. Not even when people pause right outside the drapes and through the slit I see a man’s whiskered jawline as he stares toward the ocean.
 

What if he sees us? What if he watches?

Sean’s hands are fastened on my hips, moving me when I hesitate. I tear my gaze from the drapes to Sean’s face and I see him smile. He’s seen the opening too. Of that I’m sure. But he isn’t going to let that stop him. Us.

Maybe it’s
 
wrong to feel such a thrill at the thought of getting caught in such a compromising act but Sean is my husband. This is our honeymoon. And if he doesn’t care if someone catches a glimpse of us celebrating our marriage, why should I?

Letting Sean continue the grinding motion, I lift my hands to my braid, undoing the tie and loosening it because I know Sean likes my hair down. I feel braver now, a bit naughty, because my long hair brushes against my lower back and teases me even more.

I trail my fingers over my neck, down to touch my breasts. Sean’s eyes glow with passion and desire. He watches my every movement, murmuring words and sounds of encouragement, and the soreness of my newly non-virginal state is completely forgotten when I lift my hips and lower myself down on my husband’s cock, grinding against him with every thrust into my body.
 

I stare at Sean, watch him watching me, but my gaze continues to be drawn to the opening between the drapes.
 

Sean forces me to pick up speed, until my breasts bounce with every thrust and my breath gushes in little huffs and grunts because the tension in my body is spreading out of my belly and into my thighs, up my chest.
 

I want to come. I press and rub and thrust and grind my body against Sean’s, my gaze on the slit in the drapes when I see movement. I can’t stop moving though. Even if the man turns his head, even if he sees us, watches, I don’t care because I’m that far gone. Sean guides my hips up and down onto his, filling me full, taking me higher with every stroke.
 

I open my mouth and a short, keening cry emerges before I can squelch it. Pleasure bursts through me, filling my entire body, and sure enough what I can see of the man’s head-- He turns toward the cabana, like he’s heard me. But even then I can’t stop moving.

Sean smiles at my expression, winks at me, his hands on my hips holding me in place while he thrusts up into me and finds his own release.
 

When he’s finished I collapse onto his chest, my face in his neck, my body sweaty and tired and tingly.

“I like it too,” Sean whispers into my ear. “I’m not an exibitionist, but there’s a certain thrill knowing there are people all around us, that someone might see or hear us, know what we’re doing. Know I’ve made you come.”

I close my eyes against the honesty of his statement, unable to deny it.
 

But so long as we are discreet and no one ever really sees us...
 

Sean cuddles me close, his cock twitching inside me post-orgasm.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Sean says. “It’s just a fantasy. Besides, I like this side of you, love.”

I nod, my head bumping into his chin. I like this side of me too.
 

“Ava?”

Finally finding my voice I make a sound. “Hmm?”

“Don’t wear any panties to dinner tonight.”

Commando Dinner

After making love in the cabana earlier today, Sean and I go for a swim. The water is great, but my husband is better.
 

We play like children, splashing and teasing until we tire and go back to the cabana to rest, leaving the ocean-facing drapes open so we can watch the waves and our attendant will bring us snacks.

I have to be honest. Sean’s request about not wearing panties to dinner tonight? I’m a little... freaked. Today in the cabana the drapes were pulled and realistically I doubt the man standing outside the structure heard anything but the surf and the many kids screaming and playing along the shore, plus there’s the music from the hotel pool.
 

But dinner? We’ll be surrounded by tables, people. Without a drape to be found.
 

When we tire of the beach, we gather our belongings and head back to our suite. Sean showers first to give me extra time in the bathroom. I’m envious of how men can jump in and out of the shower so quickly, without ever having to shave their legs or condition their hair. I go through the motions beneath the water’s spray, but the entire time my mind is focused on Sean’s words from earlier. What does he plan to do?
 

I’m nervous and scared and more than a little shocked. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a Christian woman. I
wear
panties.
 

But I’m also intrigued. And despite the amount of sex I’ve had in the last few hours after twenty-five years of celibacy, my body still responds, tingling, flushed and ready for my husband’s touch.

I slather lotion on my smooth legs and reach for my bra. It seems silly to wear a bra when I’m bare down below so I set it back down and remove the dress from the hanger. The material is a shimmery silver with a lightly beaded bodice and spaghetti straps, pinched in at the waist befor it flares out around my legs, the hem ending just above my knees. The skirt is bouncy and flirty, and if I move a certain way a wee bit more of my thighs show. Enough, but not too much. The lack of panties won’t be a visible problem, but the lack of bra?
 

I decide to take an oversized wrap with me despite the temperate climate. The restaurant might be cold after all.

Giving myself more time, I sit in the little vanity seat to put on my sparkly shoes. Already I’m hesitant about going to dinner this way because of the awareness I have at not having any undies on.
 

The feel of the silver material beneath my rear, the way my clitoris warms when I cross my legs to fasten the straps around my ankles. How will I get through an entire night of this?

Heels on, I put the finishing touches on my makeup, leaving my hair down and curled about my neck and shoulders because I feel the need for concealment. I might like the more sensual, adventurous side of married life, but the fact remains that I’m new at it. I’m a quick study and willing participant, but new all the same.

I brave entering the bedroom and find Sean standing on the balcony staring toward the ocean. He’s left the doors open and the tropical breeze lifts my hair but does little to cool my over-heated skin. “I’m ready,” I tell him, wondering what he’ll think.
 

I’ve very carefully saved and shopped for new clothes, and as luck would have it-- or as I believe God provided-- I found every item on my honeymoon list, usually discounted or on clearance. I’m sure God has more important things to deal with than my honeymoon clothing preferences, but I also believe nothing is too small for His attention and I’m grateful He’s provided for me.
 

Sean turns to look at me and I watch his gaze warm as looks me over.
 

“Beautiful. Are you hungry?”

“Very.” Other than light snacks and drinks on the beach, I haven’t had real food since breakfast.

“Are you wearing panties?”

I feel the surge of heat rushing into my face as it happens, earning another of Sean’s sensual grins. He loves making me blush. But I’m not about to back down from a challenge. “No.”

He seems a bit surprised by my answer. His eyes widen slightly but he nods his approval as he approaches me and drops a kiss to my cheek.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs, his hand lightly grasping my elbow to steer me back inside and across the suite to the door.
 

It isn’t until we are in the elevator that I realize I left my wrap in the room. I feel Sean staring at my chest and while a glance into the elevator’s mirrored wall shows that I’m perfectly covered, I know my nipples are peaked and hard. I’m so thankful for the beaded bodice because it covers my reaction, though nothing can hide my flushed face from Sean.

Sean’s made reservations at one of the more elaborate hotel restaurants. The interior is candlelit and atmospheric, with a piano player fingering the keys in a far corner.

“Are you wet?” Sean murmurs once we are seated and alone.

I gape at him before quickly glancing around to see if someone heard him. “N-no,” I gush.

“It’s a sin to lie, Ava.”

I feel my cheeks burst into flames once more and I wonder how many times tonight Sean will leave me breathless and red-faced.