The Virgin Wife © 2012 by Miranda Merriweather All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
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Kindle Edition. THE VIRGIN WIFE
By Miranda Merriweather
Kendra was drunk. Absolutely wasted. When had that happened? I didn’t have my phone to check, but I was sure it couldn’t be any later than 9 pm. I’d had a couple glasses of wine with dinner, but that was about it. I also knew Kendra was dipping into the top shelf stuff, but still, I didn’t see her tipping it back. Maybe she was dehydrated before we started drinking. Wouldn’t surprise me. The searing 101 degree heat of the evening was probably dehydrating all of us.
Still. Her decision to take our young, wifely girl-talk to a new level was unnerving me.
Her voice boomed. “And ANAL SEX! Don’t you guys just love anal sex?”
“Shhh, c’mon now Kendra, honey. You’ve had too much.” Denise said in her thick Long Island accent as she patted Kendra’s shoulder and rocked the front porch swing with her feet. Denise lifted her blond head above Kendra’s red hair and shot me a look. I shrugged sympathetically. Neither of us had any idea why Kendra was so smashed, but did it matter? The guys were in the garage, probably toking a joint, and that made us the babysitters.
Our quaint and elegant historic street was so quiet the only sound was the cicadas, thrumming in the trees. Kendra’s voice rang out once again like a crack of thunder. “ANAL SEX IS AMAZING!” she proclaimed, as her rolling eyes finally spotted me. “MADDIE! Don’t you love anal sex?”
I could feel the color sneaking up my neck. I was suddenly grateful I’d left my long black hair down, despite the heat. It was working like a veil, covering my embarrassment, as I said, “Um, Kendra, maybe I need to reintroduce you to Joe, my father-in-law?”
I gestured, and my diminutive and balding father-in-law shifted uncomfortably. He was currently examining the cannas with the intensity of a botanist, and as red in the face as they were in bloom. I implored Kendra with my eyes. Shut up, for the love of sweet baby Jesus and all things holy, shut the hell up…
But while Kendra was way past body language, or hints, she wasn’t “blind” drunk. Her eyes widened in surprise. “OH MY GOD. HAVEN’T YOU EVER TRIED IT?”
If I was flush before, I was now a tomato. Heat lightning flashed in the distance.
Denise rescued me. “Shhh! Kendra. Yes, sweetie, we’ve all tried it. C’mon. Let’s get you to the bathroom. Maybe you can still throw some of that up.” She stood and turned to me, “I’ll take her, but can you help me get her up?”
I stood and took a slightly too-forceful grip on Kendra’s right arm, as Denise took the left. Kendra wobbled a few steps and announced, “I’M GONNA PUKE.”
“We’re moving!” Denise announced, folding a firm arm around Kendra’s shoulder, swiftly guiding our toasted friend as I swung the door wide. Denise hustled her in, as I sank back into a chair on the porch and turned to Joe.
“I – God, Joe. I’m so sorry. She’s not usually like this.”
He nodded and set his glass on the railing. “Well, we’ve all had one too many, at some point. Listen, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to take off.” He was being exceptionally polite, considering the first impression our new friends had made.
I did my best to mask my relief that he was going.
A rumble of feet and the guys surfaced, their eyes slightly glazed, beers in hand. Jake was first, and I marveled again that I was married to this incredibly sexy soccer player with tender brown eyes and thighs of steel . Grinning from his time in the fog-laden man cave, he made eye contact with me, silently asking, “Where’d the girls go?”
I mouthed, “Don’t ask,” and he nodded. Noticing Joe had his keys in hand, he redirected his attention. “Dad, you taking off?”
Bill and Teddy’s ears perked at the words, and they crowded around to say goodbye to Joe as well. I merely waved, wondering when I’d have the courage to face him again.
I was still boiling with embarrassment. First, because Kendra had brought the subject of anal sex up in front of my father-in-law. But as petulant as it sounds, I hated the fact that Kendra had tried it and I hadn’t.
As well-traveled, educated and cosmopolitan as I was culturally, I was a virgin when I met Jake. And despite the five years of our relationship, I hadn’t really progressed beyond the basics, sexually. Jake had tried numerous times to encourage me, but I didn’t know how to let go. I was completely repressed. And it bothered me even more when I compared my experience to lily white Southern Baptist “family values” Kendra, who was two years younger than me. And Denise was even younger than her.
I felt like a virgin all over again.
True, I’d lived this way by choice. I had plenty of offers growing up L.A. -- tall, lithe, pale and raven-haired tended to stand out in a sea of bleach blonds with spray tans. Two things held me back. The first was the stated one: I was saving my first time for love. Mind you, I’d never anticipated love would take so long, let alone, be as final as marriage. So in retrospect, I don’t know if given the chance, that I’d honor that rule for myself again. I endured four years of college teasing from my experienced housemates for that stupid rule.
The other reason was less defined around the edges, but if you had to give it a name, it would be fear. I went to an all-girls Catholic school until college, so celibacy came easy for many years. But unlike my friends, who spent Saturday nights in college kneeling in front of a guy and Sunday mornings kneeling in a pew, I ditched church altogether and kept my virginity. It made no more sense than what they were doing, and meanwhile my virginity became a liability. The longer I went without, the more afraid of sex I became.
I did try to sacrifice it once. I confessed to the guy that I was a virgin while I was in a state of undress, lying on a moonlit beach -- he promptly buttoned me back up and told me to wait for someone special. I was so humiliated I never tried for casual sex again.
Then Jake finally came along, and I was free, but once we married, I was surprised to discover I felt like a virgin all over again. I never anticipated marrying my “one and only,” and it’s not without consequences. I now knew casual, sexual relationships have their purpose, too. You can be physically bold and experiment selfishly with your own pleasure in a casual relationship, because you have little or no attachment to the person you’re with. And in doing so, you learn little lessons about yourself that you can then share when the person you love comes along. Jake had those lessons to offer me, and I didn’t have any way to reciprocate. I often worried whether I had enough ideas and tricks to sustain his interest for a lifetime, and that doubt only made me hesitate more.
The loathing I felt for my sexual repression flooded me and mingled with the self-loathing I was already enduring: I was a failure in my career. While Jake had encouraged me to quit working and write, so far the results had left us in dire straits financially. In eighteen
months, I could sum up my writing success in a single phrase – I’d signed with an agent. That had been a year ago, and so far, New York wasn’t interested in my work. We were so broke that Kendra and Denise had organized this dinner party, because we admitted we couldn’t afford to a restaurant with them.
Someone was blowing on my ear. I turned, surprised. Jake whispered in my ear, “You ready to go?”
I nodded, as Denise returned to the porch and announced, “Kendra’s tired, so she’s gone to bed.”
I met her eyes -- nice cover. We both knew Bill would be totally annoyed she’d gotten so drunk she’d ended everyone’s fun early, especially his own. Denise snapped her fingers in a complicated little rhythm before placing her hands on Teddy’s chest. “We should take off, too¸ big boy.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, and I was envious again of my friends’ ability to be so overtly sexual with their partner.
As hairy and chubby as he is lovable, Teddy grinned and his chest swelled. He placed his hands on Denise’s hips and eagerly declared, “’Night All!”
Jake stuck out a hand for Bill to shake. “Yeah, we’re going, too. Thanks for dinner.”
After gathering various dishes from the dinner we shared and a flurry of goodbyes, Jake and I walked the one block back to our house, the sweat dripping off of us. It hadn’t rained in a month, while the unnatural heat cracked and blistered the ground. Even the grass felt brittle under my sandals, as I recounted Kendra’s faux pas.
Jake grinned. “So! Bill likes the chocolate factory does he? Well, ‘once a sailor, always a sailor.’”
I laughed, relieved. I was NOT interested in anal sex – the mere thought of made my cheeks clutch, my body voting a resounding “no.” I was willing to bet it hurt beyond belief. Yet bizarrely enough, I was a little disappointed too, without being able to pinpoint why.
We walked through the door of our tiny little Cape Cod home and hit the lights. The air was stifling, a good ten degrees hotter than it was outside. Jake grunted in disgust at the syrupy thickness and declared, “Can’t wait until we get air-conditioning.”
I nodded wearily, dubious as to when that would be.
Jake glanced at the sideboard next to the door and noticed something.
“You left your phone again!”
I shrugged. This was a subject we would never agree on. If the house was collapsing due to an earthquake, Jake would dive inside to save his phone like it was the family pet. And I’d be pleased if mine -- which he’d purchased for me, despite my protests -- was lost in the rubble.
“It was dead, so I recharged it.”
“Yeah, well, you missed two calls.” He hit a button and announced, “They were from your agent.” He held the screen up for me to see. “He left a message.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise and I grabbed for the phone, checking the time: 9:30. Definitely too late to call. I hit the voicemail.
Vern’s voice – normally stern and terse -- was surprisingly warm on the message. “Madison! I have some really good news for you! Call me back as soon as you get this.” Dial tone.
For the first time in my life, I was regretting having left the phone at home. I checked the screen, silently begging, more. Please tell me there’s another message. I can’t wait until tomorrow.
Another message. This time his voice was a little huffy. “Where are you? I really hate to leave this as a message, as this is the best part of my job. But seeing as it’s the weekend, I feel obliged to let you know I’ve got an offer on ‘Truly.’ Congratulations, you’re going to be published. I’ll save the details for when you FINALLY call me back.” A pause. “And DON’T call me after nine.”
I turned to Jake, my mouth hanging open. “He’s got an offer on my book.”
Jake’s smile grew as he grabbed my face, kissed me and then shouted, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU COULD DO THIS!” He picked me up and whirled me around.
I started laughing uproariously and screeched, “JAKE! PUT ME DOWN!”
“UH-UH! AND JUST FOR THAT!” He threw me over his shoulder instead, beating his chest with his other hand, caveman style. “MY WIFE’S AN AUTHOR!”
I slapped his perfect soccer ass playfully from my upside down position and giggled, “Put me down or I’ll keep slapping.”
“NOT PUTTING YOU DOWN. CHAMPAGNE!” He trundled unsteadily with me – I was almost as tall as he was -- toward the kitchen. I screeched repeatedly, and he finally attempted to slide me off, but the weight shift was too abrupt – he staggered and we both tumbled to the floor. I rolled onto my back on the wooden floors, laughing hysterically, as he climbed over top of me for a prolonged kiss.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered before climbing back up and heading for the fridge, where he proceeded to rifle around. “I’ve been saving this, just for this eventuality.” He yanked a bottle of champagne out and got to work on the cork.
“Korbel? Only the finest in all of North Carolina,” I teased, affecting a thick southern drawl like Kendra’s.
He paused for a moment, registering the dig, shook the bottle and aimed it at me.
My smile disappeared. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“No?” He pushed the cork and I was sprayed with champagne.
“JAAAAAKE!!!!” He covered the top with a kitchen towel as I shook champagne off my arms and wrung out my shirt. I was sopping wet.
He smiled at me. “You know, I almost like that shirt when it’s wet.”
“Then why don’t you wear it.” I peeled the soaked shirt off and threw it at him. He ducked, and took a swig from the bottle before passing it to me.
“I like what you’re wearing now even better,” he responded.
“Do you?” I unhitched my cranberry lace bra and dropped it to the floor, my nipples taut and tingling from bubbling champagne. “How about now?”
“Warmer…”
My skirt and panties were next, with catcalls of “Hot! Hotter! Burning up!” I tossed each item playfully and grabbed at the champagne again. I was stark naked in the kitchen, visible to the street, as well as our seventy-year-old neighbors, and I didn’t care.
I set the bottle on the counter and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my hips into his groin as I kissed him, licking the sides of his lips with intent. “I can’t believe you bought champagne before I sold the book.”
He shrugged. “I just knew you would.” He slapped at the back of my thighs. “Now get in that bedroom before we give Mrs. Grady a heart attack.”
Do I have to say how fast I moved, or how fast he followed me?
Just inside the door, I darted right, and grabbed at him as he came through. He startled as I whipped around, pushing him up against the wall, and ripped open his shirt, buttons flying. His surprised was only surpassed by my own, but I wasn’t in the mood to analyze. I tugged at the button and fly of his shorts, pushing my right hand deep to cup and tug at his stiff cock, while I used my left to shove the shorts down around his thighs. I wanted to hobble any efforts he might make to take charge.
A glancing number of kisses on his chest and I moved south, taking him into my mouth. I licked around the tip and all the way down the shaft, as I usually did. But I had a pulsing need to make this time different. On inspiration, I angled the slightly sharp edge of my crooked eyetooth against his shaft and dragged it up and down, so the sensation would suggest the slightest hint of pain and danger, mixed with the pleasure. He gasped in surprise, but didn’t object, so I teased the foreskin around the tip in the same way before pulling it back. His dick bobbed with each touch of my eyetooth and subsequently my tongue, begging to shove itself deeper into my throat. His hands soon found the back of my head, and he tried to guide himself deeper, but I pulled away and blew on his wet cock.
I looked up at him, and said, “I’ll only continue once you remove your hands.” He obeyed without a word, his palms flat on the wall again. I smiled. “Now this may hurt a little.”
I started again with the edge of the eyetooth against his manhood, adding a
little more pressure on the shaft this time, while my hands found his ass. I raked my nails down both cheeks and the backs of his muscular thighs.
“Jesus Maddie!” He groaned. From pleasure or pain I couldn’t say.
I took my right hand back, knowing I’d left a mark, and took him deep inside my throat, pumping with my head. But once again, the craving for danger overcame me. My finger toyed with the hair around his asshole, tweaking it lightly until I sensed the hole gaped with craving like a pussy. I started working a dry finger inside.
Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. I’d never done this, not even with KY. I did my best to waggle the finger around and create some room. The sensation couldn’t be entirely pleasant, but that was the intention. I took him even deeper into my mouth, fighting my gag reflex, to compensate for my need for pain. Slowly, I let a second and third finger work their way in too and started to pump them up and down in time with my blowjob.
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