Ramona Jean's Wanton Honeymoon

"Fuck me now, Jefferson!" she begged as her pelvis squirmed. "Fuck me! Please!" She placed both hands palm down between her inner thighs and kneaded her labia for emphasis.

"Why you disgusting, vulgar WHORE!" her conscience immediately screamed.

Standing beside the bed, and much to his new wife's delight, the impatient young man decided to forego removing his clothes, and simply lowered his trousers and boxers, more than ready to sink his swollen organ into the inviting brown and pink folds of flesh placed before him. While he respected and dearly loved his new bride, he had wanted her carnally since the moment she first smiled at him this past summer, while he sat in his parents car, even before her subsequent flirtations.

Mona had scant little time to admire the jolting erection that emerged from between Jefferson's wrinkled shirttails. Its ruddy, irregular surface was made sinister looking by the light of the fire. Guided by his hand, it parted her hair-ensconced labia and began to push her inner walls aside. After looking into her lover's eyes, the beautiful brunette gasped and threw her head back, arching her torso and grunting loudly at the sensation of his engorged organ excessively but wonderfully filling her. His solidified penis bullied her pussy into stretching laterally, on the verge of discomfort - it seemed a fraction of an inch more would cause her hip bones to shift, crack and permanently widen. - and accepting his stiffened shaft to an eye-widening depth she had never experienced.

Jefferson, buried inside her up to his scrotum, paused so he and his lover, her light brown stomach heaving, could savor this new sensation. Mona slapped the bed a few times with her white-gloved palms, exhaling with random guttural notes as her strained musculature acclimated to the welcome intruder. "It'll hurt like hell until you get used to it." her mother had written. It did, but it was an indescribably delectable pain.

Finally he reversed his motion, then stopped, and gradually occupied her once more, only to vacate slowly again, based on his vague coaching - summarized as 'go easy on her at first' by his father. Ramona rhythmically cried out, nearly whimpering as the blonde groom's commanding organ began its repeated violations in earnest.

She looked up to see her husband's lips parted, as if he was vocalizing his pleasure, and Mona reached out with her hand, still in a white linen glove, to meet the side of his neck above his shirt collar. He lowered his face so she could feel the vibrations of his low voice as he moaned and spoke. Her pants-less groom, his loosened necktie suspended between its knot and tie clip, said her name, said he loved her aloud in his lowest octave possible, and told her how happy he was in disjointed, winded speech. To Ramona it didn't really matter what he was saying, even if it was gibberish, but the idea was that is was just for her, like the heaven-sent erection now making strenuous but deliciously gratifying demands of her pussy. The young bride's surplus of welcoming liquor inundated the divide between her buttocks.

It was not to last, as after little more than a minute of absolutely blissful penetration, Jefferson pulled out. The bride's vagina seemingly wanted to leave her body, chase down the fugitive penis and wrap itself around the glistening shaft once more. Mona took solace in knowing this was just the first episode of what she hoped would be hours and hours of mating over the course of their week together, and the first of thousands during her lifetime with Jeff. Half dressed, in her white linen gloves - ironically a gift from the ladies at church - and, whimsically, her misaligned lavender pillbox hat, Ramona Jean had consummated her union and surrendered her virginity.

The beautiful, perspiring young bride had been warned by both camps - advising women and Jeff himself - that his first orgasm in nearly two months would arrive quickly. His last had been a daring, scandalous, impromptu handjob in the nearly empty theatre balcony during a pre-movie cartoon the euphoric afternoon he proposed.

In the honeymoon cabin, Jefferson had definitely lost his boxers, pants and shoes, but not his black socks and their garters, Mona noted as he climbed up onto the mattress on his knees, straddling her waist, and presented his reddened, swaggering penis, glossy with her essence. She had lowered and her legs to allow his ascent, her vagina still want of penetration. Upon his arrival she slid her pink lace bra up to her armpits, exposing her breasts to him for the first time as his wife, and grabbed his loaded weapon with both enshrouded hands. Her engagement solitaire and wedding band bulged from beneath the crisp linen. There was no time to remove the gloves, as an initial droplet of semen had already emerged. Ramona began yanking on his shaft, her elbows pointed out to the sides. By pre-arrangement - in preference to prophylactics - she was to 'finish him off' and allow herself to again be marked - as his chosen mate, his sexual conquest - this time with the entirety of his first married - and sanctioned - orgasm.

"Show me Jefferson!" Ramona said with alcohol-fueled inhibition, a bit slurred.

"That seed is for procreation only and not to be spilled! You are acting like a filthy harlot! " Her conscience railed her as she looked forward to his explosion. No semen had graced Mona's bare skin, other than her hand or wrist, since the night they met.

As her linen-covered hands slid up and down, her small but toned biceps bulging, the question of whether or not it was immoral or deviant to enjoy his ejaculations in this manner would have to be answered later. Jeff's dick - directed almost at the ceiling - began to expel copious quantities of semen, first as if a pot were boiling over and down the side, and then several successive spurts vaulted higher than his tie clip over invisible midair obstacles as if to impress Mona before splashing onto her chest in a white squall of warm, viscous sperm.

By the time he had finished ejaculating what seemed like half a pint milk bottle - yes an exaggeration, she thought, but damn - of gooey, pristine pale fluid onto her, he looked into her eyes, standing on his knees, sweaty, winded, red faced, but grinning broadly. Suddenly he slid backwards off the bed and headed for the bathroom, as Mona craned her neck to watch him walk away, shirttails covering him down to his hairy thighs, with the exception of his swaying penis, less rigid but still projecting outward triumphantly.

Mona then studied the strangely scented - but increasingly familiar - reproductive fluid, glossy in the light of the fire. The puddles obscured themselves as they cooled and flowed in ticklish, multiple trails toward her navel, down her ribcage on both sides, and even off her gathered bra onto a collar bone. Her right nipple - seemingly reaching toward the ceiling - was coated in ghostly white while the other - also excited - was nearly surrounded but its brown peak had escaped the deluge. Suddenly a finger appeared, its linen glove removed, a lavender polished nail plowing thru the largest puddle in the shallow valley between her breasts - they retained their conical shape even when she was prone; an asset, she was told. Bolstered by the whiskey still in her system, Ramona Jean was taking this chance to sample Jefferson's fare without his presence, in case her expression revealed an unpleasant critique.

Mona took a deep breath and brought her finger to her dark red lips. Most of her lipstick, freshened in the train station's ladies' room, remained, since they had only kissed once since their arrival. She placed the droplet on her tongue. She sensed nothing objectionable; a bland saline substance, rather oily, reminiscent of the saltwater gargles undertaken during an illness. A second, larger amount confirmed the first sample's results, then a third - and a forth. On her mission of matrimonial espionage, she now possessed another secret.

Suddenly she panicked - Jeff was sure to kiss her soon and would taste the foreign essence. If only she had some Listerine, or the flask. The champagne! She would insist on a glass before their next kiss. To celebrate, she scooped her largest quantity yet - on three fingers. Ramona held them above her open mouth, and even extended her tongue to receive the elongated drop while her conscience berated her 'disgusting, deviant' hedonism.

Three

Jefferson returned, naked, to his splattered bride with two towels. He cleaned her up as best he could, then removed the rest of her clothes, then at Mona's request, returned to the bed with the opened champagne. They wordlessly toasted with the room's thick, barrel-shaped water glasses - the only ones available. While Ramona sipped the taste of semen away, Jeff lovingly sat behind her and finished his cleanup by caressing her upper torso with the other towel, which had been luxuriously dampened with hot water.

Minutes later they were rolling around on the bed, loosely embraced with laughter and kisses, as Jefferson's erection returned, pressing against her inner thighs.

Ramona, still fully in heat and lying on her back beneath him, was also devoid of her necklace - which had been dripping with sperm - hat, and gloves. The beautiful brunette clutched Jeff's solid lance and drunkenly pled for 'more', spreading and raising her legs once again. Her bare soles facing the ceiling, she grabbed the bottle of champagne, its surface wet with condensation, and took a sip directly from it, giggling, as her empty glass was out of reach on the opposite nightstand. She handed the bottle to her groom, who declined to drink and set it on the tabletop with a serious look.

The young bride and her berating conscience only had a moment to ponder his sudden abstention as he swiftly arose and spun away from her, only to emerge at the base of her torso between her raised thighs. Instead of leaning in and mounting her, as she had hoped, Jefferson grabbed her hips and hoisted her entire body upwards. Mona squealed with laughter as she was now nearly in a headstand, her chin forced against her chest and her vagina facing the ceiling - and very near his face. Wrapping one of his strong, hairy arms around her pelvis to keep her upright, he took the partially depleted bottle and shook it, his thumb plugging the spout. With a mischievous grin at his lover, he dribbled some of the effervescent champagne down her body as she giggled. Suddenly Mona gasped as the cool liquid trickled into her vagina.

With her view consisting of her inverted torso, Jeff's arm across her stomach, and the wood-beamed ceiling similar to that of her own home, her blonde groom had upended the green bottle, and was nearly penetrating her with it. Suddenly it was empty and dropped onto the bed. Ramona watched with surprise as her husband extended his tongue and began lapping the beverage out of her vulva. Displaced white foam flowed through her pubic hair as she cried out and gathered a handful of the yellow bedspread into each fist at the new, warm, wet sensation of her lover passionately French kissing her genitals.

"This is demented! You should put a stop to this utter perversion!" Her conscience demanded, but its voice faded almost instantly.

Ramona gasped gutturally as his tongue grazed her swollen clitoris, and moments later it felt as if it had been emolliated as Jeff drew it harshly into his mouth, seemingly trying to rid her of it. The young bride's breath was rapid and shallow, and suddenly an additional spike of pleasure burst from her nipple, moistened by the champagne shower as the fingers of his free hand compressed and tugged it outward. She felt a wave of fire building, chaotic but transient at the same time.

After a couple minutes, trembling and perspiring in the warm room, Ramona swiveled and bucked her hips, regrettably trying to end the luscious sensations emanating from her labia and clitoris at the behest of her groom's nearly carnivorous assault. Only one craving was so overwhelming that it caused her to shatter the bliss of this surprise expression of his love for her. "If he likes to kiss you down there, you've got a real winner" her mother had written during their pre-nuptial briefing.

"More dick, Jefferson! Please!" Mona, drunk and echoing her vagina's sentiments, practically screamed.

The petite brunette felt her body suddenly flung to the side as if in anger, but her husband's smile, surrounded with a glaze of her juices, proved otherwise. She raised her legs as his strong grip on her midsection dragged her into position.

The young bride extended her arms out to him, but he seemed hesitant to approach her face. "Yes, kiss me Jefferson." She said, beckoning him, perceiving his reluctance and drawing him to her. Curious Mona had tasted her own essence seasons before, on the darkened side porch as summoned, phantom lovers descended upon her. She grabbed the back of his neck as her tongue extended out of her open mouth. The idea of tasting her own genitals while being fucked had never occurred to her and was animalistic, wickedly naughty and exciting.

The constricting weight of her new husband's stocky, hairy body felt wonderful as he pinned her down, arms outstretched and flat against the mattress, fingers interlocked. In moments their tongues were sliding across each other and sharing the tang of the alcohol as well as her oceanic cocktail. Jefferson's pelvis soon arose and he drove himself into her as patiently as he could. Whimpering grunts and loud exhalations escaped the bride's lips in a cacophony of primal pleasure, as his demanding girth spread her rejoicing passage far beyond its hollow comfort once more.

The beautiful young brunette could not have been happier as she writhed beneath Jefferson, arms locked around his neck, heels dug into his lower back, taking every offering of his erection as her stretched but grateful vagina luxuriated in its rhythmic, driving attention. The syncopated sensation of his scrotum once again pelting her below his entry point had been unexpected, and added to the animalistic nature of his repeated penetration.

The raven-haired bride's fingers felt the vibrations in his throat as he moaned and grunted his pleasure. She craned her neck up to look into his eyes, his breath hot on her face. After several wonderful minutes he withdrew his glossy organ into the light, but forcefully flipped her onto her stomach, then lifted her pelvis as she lowered her knees.

Winded, sweating, inebriated Ramona stuck her derriere out 'barnyard' style, certain that her anus was conspicuously sparkling with her dew like a diamond. "Only in the dark," her mother had commented about rear entry sex. Mona laughed with joy, arching her back, shoulders down for him to take her from behind for the first time. A playful slap on her bottom and several breathtaking pulls on a nipple proceeded his entrance, which felt slightly different once inside her but still quite distending and gratifying as his organ bisected her labia once more.

With a view of only the arched iron bed railing and bulging pillows, still enshrouded in the yellow spread, she watched the abstract, dancing shadows of the mating couple the fire created on the wall. The cute blue-eyed boy she met that sunny June morning, with whom she had flirted with and soon thereafter fallen in love, gripped her waist and ardently, and now more rapidly, pumped his stiffened penis in and out of her.

In minutes the young bride was crying out randomly as Jefferson rubbed her clitoris, his hand reaching around the front of her thigh. A fiery wave was beginning to overtake Mona, but she was surprised when she felt his suddenly absent erection nuzzling back and forth between her buttocks and then his warm liquid being distributed in a disciplined tributary straight up her spine, some as far as her shoulder blades. Assuming a towel would soon appear, Ramona maintained her posture, as any seismic disturbance would cause the semen to break ranks and make ticklish trails down her sides. The groom fondled and patted her bottom as he backed off slightly, freeing his satisfied penis from the valley of her derriere. The discarded champagne bottle, which had been randomly rolling around the mattress beneath them, bumped into Mona's hand, and she swatted it away. Jefferson mistook the appearance of the emptied bottle, sent in his direction, combined with his wife's continued invitational stance as an unusual request by his bride.

The beautiful young brunette suddenly felt a cool, hard object entering her vagina. Smaller in diameter than her husband's erection and not as penetrating, she still reacted with a pleasured outcry as Jefferson adjusted his stance and resumed rubbing her clitoris while he penetrated her with the dark green glass spout.

Ramona Jean's conscience scolded her vehemently as the drunken young bride reveled in the perverse debauchery, the utter vulgarity of being fucked with the neck of a bottle while her back was splattered with a man's sperm. Jeff's massage of her clitoris was enthusiastic and brisk, and in a few minutes, the raven-haired, sweating bride was wailing loudly with orgasms, her convulsing small torso flinging the cooled semen in waves down her sides.

Four

It was barely light outside when Ramona awoke, her head pounding and heart racing from her nightmare of being nude and completely exposed in a hospital delivery room and giving birth - in front of her church congregation, and President Eisenhower - to a bottle of wine. She was indeed nude as she slipped out from under the blanket and closed the flue over the empty, cold fireplace. Not even an ember remained. Like her childhood and life as a young maiden, the logs it had held last night had become part of the past.

A forced-air wall furnace, with the glow of captive flames in its bowels, had taken over to maintain the darkened cabin's warmth. The emitted air smelled of oil, the only comforting feature - her father nearly always carried a scent of petroleum - of the otherwise ugly heater. Ramona had grown up with wood stoves, and later the clean, hot radiators of her Staunton school, and trusted them, not this evil-looking set of louvers and grates on the wall. She crouched down to retrieve her purse off the floor and the aspirin inside, then rushed away from the furnace and the vibrations she could feel under her bare feet. Mona realized her husband must have put her to bed; she didn't remember much after having salacious but very orgasmic sex with the champagne bottle and Jeff cleaning off her back and sides with another warm towel. The bride's vagina felt a little sore, more so muscular than irritated, which she knew wouldn't keep her from letting Jefferson fuck her as much as he wanted. After a naked visit to the unheated bathroom, she was shivering and confiscated her groom's white V-neck undershirt from the towel rack before sliding back beneath the covers next to her husband. He stirred and turned over as she felt his snoring below his jaw.

Much later, Ramona's eyes slowly opened as smiling Jefferson gently shook her awake, standing in his worn plaid flannel bathrobe. It was bright in the room, as he had rolled up the shades on two of the windows. She could see he had tidied up, as the floor was no longer littered with her clothes and stockings. It must have been mid-morning. Most curious was the smell of food - bacon and maple syrup, at the very least, wafting through the air.

Through his novice sign language, but mostly alphabetic characters, he explained that the proprietors had some breakfast 'leftovers' and dropped them off on a large tray on their way out to church. This was a full breakfast with juice and coffee, and Jeff suspected it may have been a complimentary honeymoon premium, or done out of guilt at her rudeness the previous night, but didn't really care as they hungrily dug into it. They made a breakfast nook by a window, sitting on two unmatched antique wood chairs at a side table, its faded silk flowers removed.