Anonumous: The prodigal virgin

Perceiving his manner to be a joking one, Marion giggled. “To tell you the truth, Herbert, dear, I married you to reform myself. I hoped to forget the vile things I have been forced to learn from my lecherous sister and her bull of a husband. But now it looks as if I have gained little for the peace of my soul.”

They both laughed, and, the awkwardness dispelled by this mutual confession, they entwined in their first physical embrace. Her luscious young breasts heaving, Marion strained her body upward as if to fuse it against that of the equally inflamed man. His throbbing tool, now swollen to its full size, lay against the girl’s thigh like a hot iron.

Marion felt her whole body tremble, and it seemed as if her pubic hair stood on edge.

“Take me, Herbert!” she cried. “Do anything you want! Beat me! I’m yours to do whatever you like with!” She slid her hand quickly down his flank until it grasped the powerful engine of his sex. She squeezed it, caressed it, covering and uncovering the head with sliding motions of her hand.

Herbert’s hand had found a corresponding object on the shapely body that lay beside him. His fingers toyed with the curling little brush of hair, combing through it and pulling gently, each time pausing to touch the faintly moist lips of the anticipated treasure. He could feel the involuntary contracting of the girl’s muscles each time he repeated this caress, and, growing bolder, he rubbed a finger along the groove, back and forth until it had moistened sufficiently to become an entrance. His finger went in to the first joint, and then, instead of the slow but inexorable advance into that delectable cavern, the finger met an obstacle. He pushed a fraction harder, but with no success. He looked inquiringly at his bride.

“I say, didn’t Stan er-er, ah-put his tool in your-?”

Marion became embarrassed again. “No, Herbert, darling. He didn’t do that-he said that it was against his code to deflower a virgin. He said that was a husband’s pleasure.”

“Damned considerate of him,” Herbert said with a touch of sarcasm. “What else did he say?”

“He said that after I was married he was going to have a piece of me if he had to tie my husband to a tree while he was getting it,” Marion said, feeling a desire to arouse Herbert’s jealousy.

But Herbert laughed. “So that’s his game, eh? Well, why not? Plenty of men have tried to have a bed party with your sister, and have perhaps succeeded-meaning no offense to your charming sister, of course. Turnabout is fair play. When we return to the Dunes I’ll see if he will agree to a temporary trade-a comparison of brands, so to speak. That is, of course, provided that your sister would not be averse to sampling the product of her brother-in-law.”

Marion was startled by this evidence of a broad-mindedness that surpassed even that of Stanley, so far as she knew. But any feeling that she may have had in anticipation of the day of return was side-tracked by a more immediate task at hand. Instinctively, she wriggled her body slightly against Herbert’s, communicating to him that, for the time at least, Stan was not on hand to bargain with.

Herbert held back the expected embrace. His face still bore a puzzled look. “Well, if he didn’t actually take you, what did he do, besides stripping you naked?”

“He-kissed me-all over.”

“Oh, he did?” said Herbert. “And did you like this kissing?”

Again Marion blushed. But excited now almost beyond endurance, burning with anticipation of what was in store for her, she smiled and answered. “I must confess that it gave me supreme pleasure. Although at first I thought this caressing strange, and even disgusting, I was soon disabused of that idea. Stan, and Mildred too, assured me that this form of love-making was a favorite relaxation among lovers, as well as being an excellent stimulus to jaded passions.”

Herbert said nothing in reply, but Marion was not long in learning that he agreed with this pronouncement. For he had begun kissing her with uncontrollable fury, exploring each curve and crevice of her body with his fevered lips, first her breasts, letting his lips pause lovingly on these pointed beauties, his tongue tickling their nipples until Marion thought she would swoon with delight. Then his lips moved on and downward, over the white, velvety belly until they found the navel. At the same time his hands were stroking her thighs and legs, pausing now and then to pat or squeeze some particularly delightful spot. Marion gave a little gasp of pleasure as the burning lips rested for a brief moment on her sheath, and, throwing her legs open wide she invited him to the feast.

Herbert needed no urging, and his subsequent actions proved that he was no novice at this game. Bending to the task, he applied his tongue to the fiery region of delight, while Marion, no longer murmuring shamed protests as she had done when first subjected to this experience by the ruthless Stanley, wiggled her deliciously curved loins to meet each darting movement of his serpentine tickler.

“Oh-oh-oh, Herbert, darling, that is marvelous!” she gasped in rapturous ecstasy. “Oh, it thrills me to the very center of my heart. I have never known such pleasure to exist!”

Abruptly, Herbert raised his head, and, half-turning, looked at her. Although this amorous dalliance had brought him even nearer to the climax, he still was bent upon wreaking a kind of vengeance on this lovely girl. Even though he boasted of a broadminded outlook on such matters, and indeed felt a sort of gratitude to Cochrane for having performed the preliminary tasks of breaking down her resistance, he was determined to humble this girl, to force her, if necessary, to respond in kind.

Therefore, he turned over on his side so that his rampant organ, swollen almost to the bursting point, dangled against her breast, scarcely six inches from her lips. Seeing the monster at such close range, Marion’s first impulse was to cry out in shame, to turn her head from such vulgar familiarity. But one look into Herbert’s flaming eyes told her that such theatrics would avail her nothing. So she smiled, and, clasping the rearing sphere in her two hands, she pressed it wildly to her breasts, turning so that it lay between the heaving mounds. Feverishly she rubbed and tickled it, even squeezing her breasts together, enfolding the member in their gentle caress.

Herbert shifted his position slightly, bringing the ruby crown half the distance to her mouth, while his hands continued to explore her lower regions, concentrating on the most maddening spots. His virile shaft now grazed Marion’s dimpled cheek.

“Oh, darling, please don’t make me wait any longer! Oh, please, ravish my body with it-kill me, if you like, but don’t excite me more or I’ll lose my reason! I’m crazy for it!”

Herbert continued to stroke and squeeze the girl’s delicately molded hips and run his fingers through the curly thatch of hair wherein he had so recently planted the most ardent kisses. Then, without speaking, he reached down and, grasping his tool with one hand, guided it deliberately to Marion’s lips. She turned her head, gasping:

“Why, Herbert, how can you push that thing to my lips?”

Herbert laughed shortly, the sound coming in wheezing gasped that betrayed his excitement. “Come now, Marion, my dear, I’m sure that Stanley Cochrane hasn’t let you be a stranger to this pleasure. Surely he impressed upon you, during his so very generous tutoring, the necessity for reciprocity.”

“No, no!” Marion gasped. “He didn’t. I never heard of such a thing.” The truth was that Marion was eager to apply her lips to this lovely giant, as she had indeed applied them to Stanley Cochrane’s, but one last spark of maidenly purity impelled her to simulate unwillingness. So, though she felt the desire to fall upon this stiffened organ, to push it all the way down her throat, if possible, she determined to resist the impulse until Herbert used more coaxing methods.