Ward Fulton - The Violated Virgin

"It makes me feel you've got a practical education rather than academic one," he said guardedly.

"Ask no questions, hear no lies," she laughed. "Come on, don't tell me you prefer a coy virgin who doesn't know how to fuck."

He gasped. "Suzanne!"

"Do I shock you?"

He shook his head.

"No, because I've not exactly been wasting my time in Europe," he said with a sly grin. "So maybe we can compare notes. In bed, of course," he added, squeezing her waist and leading her towards the stairs.

"Of course," she echoed. "Where else is there?"

Sam's heart was beating wildly as they entered his room, and he closed the door and clicked the lock. Suzanne walked over to the bed and bounced on it.

"Hm, nice and springy," she commented. "Not too much rebound."

"You're too much," he said. "Come on, let me undress you. I've always wanted to."

"The hell with you," she snapped pleasantly. "Undress yourself. It'll be quicker, and I want to feel you next to me, Sam." She ran across the room into his arms. "I want to hold you naked in my arms, and feel you slide into me, every inch of you. Sam, I want you to fuck me like no one else you've ever fucked."

He grinned at her.

"The same goes for you, you adorable little hussy," he said, and as he pulled his shirt off and undid his pants, his eyes gazed eagerly at her body as it slowly came into view as one by one her garments fell away until she stood, naked and unashamed before him, her breasts round, full and luscious, her slender waist and her wide hips with the enticing dark-blonde bush between her thighs. She noticed his sex beginning to rise again, and she lay back on the bed, her arms beckoning, and he came to her, lowering his body on top of hers, covering her, his penis between her legs and his arms around her.

She shivered as she felt his warm flesh against her own, and she opened her mouth for his tongue. They clung together, and she moved her hips under him, her excitement growing as she felt the hair on his chest rubbing against her nipples.

"Oh, fuck me, Sam, fuck me," she whispered.

He slid his mouth off her cheeks, down across her neck, and enclosed her breasts in his hungry lips, flicking his tongue across her nipples, going from one to the other, while Suzanne felt her loins heating up, the fire in her vagina not to be denied.

"Now, now," she cried out. "I want you in me."

Teasingly, his mouth slid over her stomach, and then with a rush he buried his face in her bush, her musky odor in his nostrils exciting him even more than the touch of her flesh.

With his hands he pulled open her crevice, exposing her red-hot flesh.

His tongue found her clitoris, and he licked, and stabs of erotic arousal suffused her body. She began moving her hips and moaning loudly.

"More, more, suck it, suck it," she cried out, and his mouth bit her gently, his teeth closing round the hard nipple of her clitoris while his tongue went wild on her.

"Please, please," she urged him. "I want it in me, Sam, now, now."

He raised up. His penis was hard and throbbing once more between his legs, its foreskin stretched back exposing his broad flat red head, oozing lube from its slit. He threw one leg over her and gently lowered himself, pressing the end of his cock against her cunt-lips. She moaned and put her hand down to guide it in, thrilling at the touch of his size once more.

With a gasp he penetrated her and slid in all the way. As she felt his maleness enter, Suzanne gave a cry of ecstasy. Her insides convulsed and she knew the end of his prick was right up at the mouth of her womb. They fitted, perfectly; they were just the right size. His cock was everything she had hoped and dreamed it would be. With a sudden animal violence, she gripped his shaft with her vagina as he began thrusting in and out of her. She felt his balls slap against her flesh as he rammed home, deep into her, and her nails dragged across his back.

Eagerly he lowered his mouth to her breasts and began kissing them as he continued to move inside her, pushing his rod all the way in, then slowly withdrawing until it was almost all the way out, then going back in quickly, all the way. She was writhing in ecstasy, her physical responses heightened by the knowledge that finally it was Sam on top of her, finally it was the one she really loved, and they were together, fucking, not just for the mere animal satisfaction, but because they loved each other.

She had never known such feelings within her. Even with Clayton's enormous organ violating her; even Ted or Donald; even the undeniable delight of Yvonne's tongue; none of these compared with the thrills that flooded her, knowing it was Sam's penis within her vagina. It was Sam on top of her. Sam. Sam at last, she breathed, at last.

With a cry, Suzanne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, pushing her hips closer to him and feeling the answering throb of additional excitement in his cock. Her insides convulsed and her vagina was wet with her juices as her hands clawed his skin and she felt her orgasm flood through her. Her mind floated up off the bed; her body seemed to spin suspended on the tip of his cock, which jerked and ejaculated its load into her innermost depths. He cried out, moaning and calling her name, and her throat was dry from the excitement and her calling out to him. "Oh, Sam, Sam, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"

Slowly they subsided, and she felt him getting soft inside her. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes.

"Suzanne…" he breathed. "It's never been like that before."

"Nor me," she replied.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

They lay still, enjoying the warm afterglow. His penis slid out and he lay beside her, letting her fingers hold his organ gently, while his fingers stroked her breasts.

They each had a million questions, but each knew instinctively not to ask them.

Mrs. Delacorte bustled into Suzanne's bedroom, where two maids were busily helping her into her wedding gown.

"Now, there's a bride for you," she said loudly, standing with one hand on her hip, surveying her daughter with pride. "You look absolutely ravishing, my dear. You always did look better in white, I think."

Suzanne turned and smiled at her.

"Yes," Mrs. Delacorte said, "It sets off your coloring. You should be on the cover of McCall's. You look so pure and chaste. The perfect image of unsullied womanhood."

"Of course, Mother," replied Suzanne.

"Oh, talking of McCall's, the picture in today's paper is really lovely. Look."

Suzanne took the newspaper and stared down at the picture of herself on the social page.

"It is nice," she commented.

"Nice? It's beautiful," said Mrs. Delacorte. "But then, you are beautiful, Suzanne. I'm very proud of you, and so's your father. This reminds me of my own wedding. It seems so long ago now. Oh, dear, I mustn't cry, I mustn't. I'll ruin these new lashes." Carefully she dabbed her eyes with a filmy handkerchief.

"Mother, stop carrying on," said Suzanne. "I'm nervous enough as it is."

"All right, all right. You almost ready? The car's waiting."

"Yes, I'm ready."

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She did look wonderful, she thought; the bodice fitted her perfectly, showing off her full, rounded bosom, and the waist tucked in, giving her a perfect figure.

Yes, she did make a wonderful-looking bride. She lifted her head, turned, and followed her mother down the stairs.

As she was helped into the back seat of the Cadillac, she wondered what Sam was thinking at that moment. They had seen each other almost daily since his return, and their relationship had become closer and closer.

She had slept with him almost every night, and with each encounter they discovered more about each other and the different ways to pleasure their bodies. Oh, Sam, she thought, you're the greatest lover a girl could ever want.