026

Tanner woke me twice more during the night. The first time, he was hard behind me and trying to enter me from the rear. I lifted my right leg and helped him fill me. Our lovemaking was languid and relaxed, lying on our sides. His hand was cupped around my right breast, playing with my nipple, but I didn't think I would orgasm. He couldn't get too deep from this position and wasn't quite touching those spots within or on me which would usually lead to climax, but I was perfectly content to let him have this one. It was enough to have him in me, slowly thrusting. It was not to be.

"Touch yourself," he whispered in my ear. "Make yourself cum."

"I don't need to orgasm, darling," I replied, reaching back to put my hand in his hair where his head lay, kissing my neck and shoulders.

"I want you to. I want you to cum again with me."

I'd never masturbated in front of another person, and it felt strange to do so now, in front of my new husband. On the other hand, it was dark, he was behind me and he probably couldn't see me touching myself anyway, so I let go of his hair and put my hand down between my legs. I could feel his big penis sliding in and out of my body. Finding my clitoris, I started sliding a finger on either side of the small nubbin. I gasped. My hand in conjunction with his slick stalk would soon do what his penis alone would not, bring about my release. I rapidly built toward an orgasm. His hand on my breasts got slightly rougher, pinching and twisting the nipple, not enough to negate the pleasure, but adding a slight twinge of pain. He was hurting me less than Shizuko's nipple clamps had, but it had the same effect, a rush of blood to my sex and increased moistening of my vaginal canal. I moaned and he increased the speed of his thrusting.

"I want you to cum when I tell you," Tanner said. "Get close, but don't let yourself go until I tell you."

"Yes. God, yes," I groaned.

I brought myself close to the edge, and by stopping my rubbing, was able to hold off. As I felt the approaching peak start to recede, I would touch myself again. For five minutes, I was balanced on the precipice. My breathing was ragged and halting, scarce able to take a deep breath lest I fall off the tipping point I held myself on. Tanner started grunting in my ear, his own breathing as rough as my own. He sped up again, and I knew he was getting close himself.

"Now," he grunts. "Cum now."

Three things happen simultaneously, he twists my nipple particularly harshly, I furiously rub my clitoris, and he thrusts as deep as he can get and his penis spews his seed in pulsing jets. I spiral down in a fantastic orgasm, almost unbearable in its intensity. My vaginal walls cling to his penis with a vise like grip as I spasm hard on his shaft. From the feeling I would not climax, to one of the most powerful ones of my life. Tanner's sexual experience was an unrealized benefit to my pleasure. I would not have considered touching myself as an adjunct to his making love to me, but it was wonderful. To climax at the same time as he did, incredibly satisfying.

"Did you enjoy it?" Tanner whispers, his mauling hand gentle again as he softly strokes my breast.

"Yes. It was very nice."

"Go back to sleep, my love" he said. "I'll wake you again if I need you."

"Okay."

I lowered my leg and burrowed back against him. Before I returned to slumber, I felt his penis shrink and slide from my vagina with a squishy plop and liquid trickle from between my labia. I thought to myself we were leaving a huge mess on the sheets. We'd taken the honeymoon suite, so hopefully they wouldn't be surprised to see the condition of their bed after we left.

The last time Tanner woke me, the light leaking between the cracks in the drapes showed the sun had risen. I was lying on my back and his hand was between my legs, stroking my bald sex. I jumped, still unaccustomed to having another body in my bed, especially one touching me so intimately. I remembered I was Mrs. Tanner Mason and it was a good thing he was touching me. I stretched and spread my legs slightly, granting him more access to my core. He took advantage and pushed two fingers into me. I gasped, still surprised his fingers could feel so much thicker than mine and go deeper than I could. It was like three of mine.

"Good morning, Mr. Mason," I said, whimpering at the end as he curled his fingers against my g-spot.

"Good morning, Mrs. Mason," he responded.

I reached down and found his penis hard and ready.

"You're insatiable," I said.

"I waited a long time for you. I have to make up for lost time."

"What are you waiting for then? You're hard and I'm wet."

He laughed and climbed over me. I parted my legs wider and he put his penis at the gate and pushed slowly in. I moaned as he filled me and wrapped my long legs around him, pulling him closer. He bent down and gathered a taut nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. I felt it stiffen, pebbling under his loving touch. After we were fully joined, he stilled, letting me feel his penis throbbing within me. He withdrew and almost left me. I could feel myself start to close over the top of his crown, but he plunged forward, harder and faster this time. It felt so good, and I moaned again.

"You seem to like fucking, Mrs. Mason," Tanner said, slamming into me again.

"Not fucking," I whimpered, "making love. Making love with my husband."

"No," he said, "not making love, fucking. I'll show you."

He put his hands under my legs and raised them up until they were resting on his shoulders and I was bent almost double. He started slamming into me, hard and fast, driving deep into my sheath, owning me. He was right. It wasn't making love. It was more primal than that. What we were doing went back to the dawn of time; a man claiming a woman as his own. That's what Tanner was doing; claiming me as his. There was nothing gentle or sedate or even loving about it. He was proclaiming to the world I was his and he owned me. It was fucking. I surrendered to it and climaxed twice before I felt him stiffen and with a final hard thrust, emptied his balls into me, his woman; finally his.

"Was I right?" Tanner asked. "Was it making love?"

"You were right. There was no making love in it."

"Say it then. Tell me what it was."

I hated the word. Fucking. It was a nasty word. A word without love and respect and joy. It was hard and brutal and sharp and animalistic, but he was right. It perfectly described what we'd just done. He'd fucked me and I'd liked it. It was not as tender and loving as our first time, but he'd made me climax twice.

"It was fucking," I admitted, still hating the word.

Little did I know then, how familiar I would become with the word, the act, of fucking. Fucking like animals. Not drawing pleasure from another person's body, but forcing it, ripping it from them, no matter what they wanted or desired. I would become very familiar with fucking.

"We need to get going," Tanner said. "We need to shower and eat before we catch our plane. I want to shower with you. Perhaps it will lead to more fun and games."

"All right," I agreed. I too wondered what it would be like to shower with Tanner, to feel his soapy, slick hands on my body and mine on his.