Paul Mall: Driving Men To Distraction

"Shall we go downstairs for dinner?" Chance turned to his new wife after the bell hop left them alone in their suite. "Or would you prefer room service?"

"Are you kidding? I've been waiting for this for three months," Tanya said, "and if you think you're going to walk out of this room to get something to eat, just forget it, Mr. Chance Weston."

He laughed. He had no intention of leaving the room. He also had waited three months for this night.

"Now, you wait right here," Tanya said, pulling a small suitcase from the bed. "It'll take me a little while to prepare myself."

She started toward the bathroom connected to their bedroom. Chance called after her, "Hey, wait a minute! The wedding's over. We're married now. Don't I get to shower with you?"

The beautiful new bride shivered visibly, with excitement, not fear.

"That's one of the sexiest ideas I've heard lately… but not now, love. Don't be mad, please. I've been planning for this ever since you popped the question. Put up with me for a few more minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a nod. "Anything you want. I'll be waiting right here."

He didn't mind. Despite the mutual knowledge of their bodies, Tanya was still a virgin-still a girl. And she was nervous. She wanted him, had wanted him for three months, but she still held that girlish fear of the unknown, that uncertainty of taking a man into her body, the transition from girl to woman. He could wait and let things happen as they happened. This night would be good for him. He just wanted to make sure it was good for her.

The sound of a shower came from the bathroom. He smiled and rose from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting. Quickly scooting their luggage to one side of the room, he opened one bag and extracted a robe and a shaving kit. There was another bathroom attached to the living area of their suite. This he used for a quick shower and shave. And afterward, a brisk dash of Russian Leather. It was Tanya's favorite.

Slipping into the robe, he walked back into the bedroom. There, tucked beneath the bed, was the ice bucket, two glasses, and bottle of champagne he had ordered to be secreted there when he made the reservations. He pulled them out and placed them on the dresser. He had quietly extracted the cork and poured two chilled glasses by the time Tanya's shower stopped. Leaving the glasses on the dresser, he returned to sit on the edge of the bed.

A moment later the door to the bathroom opened and Tanya stepped out.

He found himself sucking in a deep breath in an involuntary reaction.

She was beautiful, an alluring goddess come to earth.

"Like it?" she asked, uncertainty in her voice. "I picked it out especially for tonight."

"Beautiful," he nodded unable to find the words to all the things he was feeling. "The most beautiful woman in the world."

His virgin bride wore a long, black, lacy negligee. It was sheer, giving glimpses of the voluptuous body beneath, but the intricate pattern of the lace completely obscured all the vital areas of her body.

"I thought black would be sexier than white," she said, smiling now that she realized he did indeed like the gown. "It's also easy to get out of."

Rising from the bed, he walked to her and pulled her to him, holding her tenderly while they kissed long and lovingly. The fabric of the gown was so thin he could feel her warmth suffuse through it.

"Mrs. Weston, have I told you I love you?"

"Not in the past half-hour," she said with a pleased sigh as their lips parted. "And that's thirty minutes too long."

"I love you." They kissed again, her arms holding him a little bit tighter, but he could detect traces of tension and nervousness within her. He expected that. Thus the champagne.

When they separated again, he reached to the dresser and lifted their glasses.

"Mmmmmmm," she said sipping the golden wine. "This is a nice surprise."

"Especially for you," he replied. It was. A bit of alcohol would help relax her, and that was what he wanted. Too much would numb her.

Exactly what he didn't want.

So by the time they had shared that one glass and several more kisses, he was ready to get down to the matter at hand-making love to his wife.

"Do you want me to take this off?" she asked, indicating she was ready for the real wedding.

"I'd rather." He reached out and slowly unfastened the buttons of her gown. Her eyes were on his. Her breathing was short and quick, nervous.

When the last button came free, he slowly opened the gown, like an artist unveiling a sculpture. It slid from her shoulders and dropped to the floor around her ankles.

His eyes took in all of her, devouring the unashamed beauty that stood before him. It was the first time he had ever seen her totally naked, and all the hints he had before didn't equal the magnificent woman that now offered herself to him-his wife.

Her hair, raven black and shining, hung loosely at her shoulders in a neat flip. Her breasts, though he had seen and played with them before, now looked opulently large, like creamy melons, ripe and full. Her stomach, flat and taut, trembled slightly as his eyes roved downward.

Her hips were flared, feminine and seductive. Her calves shapely and her thighs supple and smooth. But his eyes focused on the dark triangle of fleece bushed over the womanly bulge of her pubis. There awaited the virgin treasure his bride brought this wedding night. His cock twitched and jerked, coming to life at his crotch.

"Beautiful," he whispered again, once more taking her in his arms and kissing her.

Despite her understandable nervousness, she melted against him. Her mouth reached for his and accepted the probing of his hungry tongue.

His hands caressed the silky smoothness of her back, reveling in the feel of her nakedness. He moaned softly as she pressed the waiting knoll of her sex against the rising stalk of his prick.

He wanted this girl-woman. Every cell of his body ached for her. His excitement was a fiery ball of need. He wanted to lay her on the bed and mount her, blasting her full of the desire he had contained within him for three months.

To have done that would have ruined everything. Unlike the eager boymen who rape their brides, either out of ignorance or a juvenile belief that a woman is satisfied by just having a cock slammed into her cunt, Chance Weston was a man. And he knew that what happened this night could well shape the sex life he and Tanya would share throughout their marriage. His primary task was not to sate his own carnal needs and lusts, but to see that this black-haired temptress was introduced to the pleasures a man and woman share, that she was satisfied. Then, she would satisfy him.

As their tongues danced and dueled around in their mouths, taunting and thrilling, he edged her toward the bed and lowered her atop the mattress. They embraced, holding each other close before he rose above her.

His eyes roved over the voluptuous curves of his new bride's body again. The now domed mounds of her breasts, shimmering like satincovered pillows. Her dark nipples standing atop each, stiff and hard in arousal. The haloes around those tempting buttons sleek and stretched looking.

Her thighs opened, parting for his intimate gaze. Small droplets of moisture welled from the lips of her vulva, lubricants already flowing within her virginal body, preparing the channel of her quim for him.

She shivered, raising her arms, beckoning him to her.

Pulling on the sash of his robe, he pushed it back over his shoulders, dropping it to the floor. His cock, thick and swollen with pulsating need, lanced from his groin. The black-tressed temptress stretched out before him trembled. Her eyes widened as they drifted down to his crotch.

"Big, you look so big," she said, her eyes remaining on the fat bludgeon of his sex. "I've never seen you so big."