by Curt Aldrich
Table of Contents
My Bride for Yours CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
My Bride for Yours
Curt Aldrich
This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.
CHAPTER ONE
It was when Bill Stewart slipped him a ten-dollar bill after the brief wedding ceremony that the aging Jacksonville justice of the peace took him by the elbow and casually led him a few steps away from his new bride Marilyn.
“Where are you and the missus intending to go on your honeymoon, young fellow?” the old man asked, glancing lecherously at Bill's firm-titted young bride.
Bill didn't think that was any of the man's business, and he considered telling him so. But he decided it was just possible the JP wasn't being really nosy, but only friendly, if a little thoughtless in the way he expressed his friendliness. Anyway, Bill felt so pleased over being newly married that he had no stomach for what might be taken as crabbiness on his part.
“We plan to spend a week or so driving through the South is all, maybe visit New Orleans... and Washington, D.C.”
“That right? You ain't got a whole lot of money then, have you, son?”
“Well now, why do you want to ask a question like that?”
“Hey, son, don't take me wrong; I don't mean no offense. It's just, well, most of the young couples as has me to marry 'em ain't what you'd call rightly fixed. Know what I mean? 'Cause if they was, you know, the little ladies most likely be on their men's backs for a church wedding and everything; they mostly like to get sent off with a bang. You two elope, did you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, you are kind of young. But what I had to say is that you could treat the missus and yourself to something a little more special than just a trip through the South if you was a mind to.”
“Yeah? What? Special stuff costs money.”
“They do usually, sure enough, but there's an exception to every rule. Tell me, you got two hundred, don't you?”
Bill nodded. “That's just about what I do have. What you want to know for?”
“I got a brother-in-law name of Cap'n Tony Janeway, and he's just starting this new service, you see. What it is, he's got this small yacht-calls it the Wanderlust—and he's got this arrangement worked out where he's going to be taking newly married couples from Jacksonville to this small resort on Sugarloaf Key.”
“That right?”
“Going to be takin 'em regular during the winter; that's the way he's got it figured. Anyway, the first cruise down leaves this evening right about sunset, and for only two hundred dollars you get the cruise down, and you get five days and nights at the resort, and you get the cruise back. Just two hundred dollars for everything, 'count of it's an Introductory special.”
“That a fact?”
“Sure enough is. You and the missus would have you a real good time, I'm sure. Cap'n Tony tells me he and my sister got everything fixed up nice as could be... going to have entertainment and everything. That two hundred dollars includes your meals and everything, even the drinks up to a certain limit.”
“It's not nothing shoddy... like one of these grafts they talk about, is it?”
“No, no, nothing like that, son, believe me. It's going to be real nice. You and the missus will have a lot more fun than you would just driving through the South.”
“Well, I'd have to talk it over with Marilyn for a minute.”
“Sure, you do that. And if you two decide sensible like I think you will, I'll call Cap'n Tony ahead of time to have a cabin on the yacht all ready for you.”
* * * *
Smiling a little shyly at the look of anticipation on the face of her husband of less than two hours, Marilyn Stewart kicked off her shoes and padded across the plushly carpeted floor of the starboard-side cabin. She watched Bill move nervously toward the porthole to watch the sun sink over the thick finger of Florida; then she hurried into the combination bathroom-dressing room and softly closed the door behind her.
Marilyn was a delicate-featured, big-blue-eyed “child” bride of seventeen—her husband was himself only nineteen—with long, flowing honey-blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders to strain after the solidly packed, bulgy little cupcake mounds of her titties. Her figure was diminutive, but uncommonly attractive in the graceful, girlishly sensual balance of its gentle curves and sweeping hollows, flaring beyond her tiny waist into quite respectable hips. And her firm, melony ass with its saucy twin thrusts rarely failed to garner lingering second glances from roving male eyes.
For all her youthful ripeness and loveliness, Marilyn was still a virgin. And she derived quite an inordinate degree of self-satisfaction from that fact, for she knew what struggles, both physical and emotional, that she had gone through to keep her cherry intact. No, it had not been easy—not for her, and not for Bill, either—but she had kept up her resistance, and her will had prevailed; she was as “white” as her wedding gown.
In moments, her body reminded her that the first thing she had better get done in the privacy of the bathroom-dressing room was relieve the pressure in her bladder, which had been increasing steadily since she had said “I do.”
Down to her snug white underpanties at last, she rolled that final garment off her underbody as she stepped around a low, rough-brick planter-partition to the toilet.
Leaning forward and down, her torso hard over her lap on the toilet seat, she grunted and panted with that curiously erotic pleasure of urinating with abandon. Straining to squeeze in her stomach, she buzzed furiously into the toilet bowl, spraying a powerful geyser down from her expanding urethra.
“Ahhh,” she sighed.
And even as she was sighing, her mind tripped back over the times she had struggled to save her hymen from Bill's rutting advances.
She recalled in particular the most recent such struggle, which had been fought scarcely a Week before. She and Bill had spent the evening at her home, her parents having gone out to a drive-in, and poor Bill had become so inflamed by her charms that she could hardly hold out against his lecherous behavior.
She giggled now, thinking about it.
They had spent quite a while relaxing on the sofa, watching TV, listening to records, talking under romantically dim light about nothing of very great importance, just quietly enjoying each other's companionship. Then she made what turned out to be a strategic error of the first rank, considering her feeling about the propriety of her remaining a virgin until after they married.
Wanting only to please Bill in some vague way—but decidedly without any intention of baiting him into going almost all out to fuck her that very night—she excused herself to change into something more comfortable, which in a few minutes was revealed to be a pair of flaming-red silk lounging pajamas, with no underwear dampening the feeling of freedom that the two sheer items of clothing allowed her to luxuriate in.
Marilyn had returned from her bedroom and was half reclining and snuggling playfully against Bill for only a short time before Bill's actions almost got out of hand. She'd scarcely had time to gauge the severity of the reaction her ill-considered change of clothing had provoked in Bill, before he had her diminutive form tightly enfolded in his arms, with his lips wandering all over her face and his hands stealing down her torso to dig far into her crotch.
Bill's fingers were mass
aging the tight-lipped flesh of her cunt before she finally managed to find the words to squeal, “Hey! What are you doing? You're not supposed to mess with me there, Bill—ooh, no, not 'til we're married!”
“Marilyn, I want you! Please let me! Just look at the shape I'm in!”
“No! I won't look! I'm ashamed of you, Bill! Now, stop this instant!” Marilyn was Squirming vainly to get away from Bill's fingers. “This isn't right! Please let me go!”
“Darling, you're getting so wet! You want it too! You know you do!”
Marilyn was experiencing sensations she had been familiar with, but only by the questing of her own fingers. Never before had Bill dared to go so far!
If he had kept at her with those devilishly talented fingers of his—
“Mmm,” she'd moaned, beginning to pump her hips in response to the quickening pace of his frigging.
“You see?” Bill had husked. “You want it bad, darling. Don't you know that the sensible thing for you to do is give up fighting me and just lie back and enjoy it?”
“You shouldn't be doing this!” had been Marilyn's frantic reply. “It's wicked and nasty and-ah, that's good...”
Those fingers of Bill's had almost persuaded Marilyn to let him have his way with her, but her code of morality, along with her hymen, were kept intact by the sound of her parents' car pulling into the driveway.
Bill had had no choice: he gave up the struggle he had come so close to winning.
CHAPTER TWO
Marilyn giggled again, still squatted on the toilet, her anticipation growing to be as strong as what Bill was feeling back in the cabin's bedroom.
Having relieved herself, she wrapped several sheets of tissue around her fingers and wiped herself with such vigor that her clitoris began to peep out from under its succulent, fleshy hood.
Lightly perfumed in all the strategic places, with her hair freshly brushed to a sparkling sheen and her cheeks dusted with just a hint of seductively scented powder, and wearing a diaphanous blue baby-doll nightie and nothing else, Marilyn at last rejoined Bill in the bedroom, whose lights he had already turned down, thoughtfully, to ease the way of her once-in-a-lifetime first-night journey across to him.
Bill was sitting nervously on the edge of the bed. He'd been so preoccupied by his thoughts he had neglected to take off his clothes, but his first sight of Marilyn crossing toward him made him wish he had done so. He felt a strong urge to fuck her without delay as soon as she came within grabbing distance.
Bill would have been quite shocked if he could have read Marilyn's mind. Virgin she was, but she was still an uncommonly hot young thing. She did feel some natural trepidation turning her stomach into a cage of butterflies, but her fear of the pain of having her cherry broken was easily overmatched by the wellings of a thoroughly sensual nature, which she'd largely kept under control until this night.
Far from considering the short walk to the bed burdensome, as Bill was sure she must, Marilyn felt decidedly light on her feet, a cloud of sinews and tensely primed nerve ends wrapped in translucent, shimmering blue light, as she drifted almost dreamily in Bill's direction.
Then she felt herself really buoyed up, for Bill caught at her under her arms, and proceeded to swing her up over the bed to lay her gently on her back.
Sprawled out there almost childishly contented, she had to shut her eyes for some moments, letting the feeling of a peaceful and utterly pleasant dreamlike state grow and saturate her being. Only the fluttering of her stomach muscles made her sure she wasn't actually dreaming.
She sighed languidly and let her thighs sag farther apart.
“You're so lovely,” Bill murmured, sitting back down and leaning over her. “You look like an angel.”
Bill's tender words made Marilyn grow more acutely aware of the fluttering low in her stomach.
She could tell from the slight breeze stirred up in the cabin by the air-conditioning unit, and playing over her skin, that her nightie had blown up high on her abdomen, revealing her cute belly button, and her loosely clinging bikini underpanties.
She didn't have to look at Bill to realize his eyes were burning through the wispy triangle of the front of her panties to probe between the tight, pudgy lips of her cunt. And her certainty made her itch there—a wholly nice kind of itch—and grow moist.
Bill could no longer satisfy his hunger for her with his eyes alone. He needed to play his palms over her youthful curves, to knead her flesh in his swirling, clutching hands. Supporting the weight of his upper torso with one outstretched arm, fisted hand drilling into the mattress, he slipped his free hand onto the taut skin just above one of her knees.
At first, his fingers moved only tentatively, not daring to travel with the sweeping free movements of the beginning of true love play, as if he were unconsciously assuming that by the mere act of touching her naked skin he was in some way violating her. Only after slowly acclimatizing his fingers to her flesh did he come to appreciate that he had a right to have his way with Marilyn's body, that it was right for him to do to her all that his lust was prodding him to do. His hand at last snaked up between her thighs, pinching and pressuring the delicate skin along the way.
Marilyn sighed deep and hard, a sigh that threatened to turn into a groan, for Bill's fingertips were finally at the crotch of her underpants, burrowing between the lips of her pussy through the sheer material.
Bill withdrew his fingers, then caught at her moist flesh, firmly pinching the fat little lips together and dragging the tip of his middle finger up and down the ridge of the sealed split.
And then he was easing her pants off her underbody, his fingers caught under the waistband directly below the dimple of her belly button, and she was helping him by elevating her midsection, supporting her weight at her shoulders and the heels of her feet.
He tossed the panties beyond the foot of the bed; then he moved up to caress her sensually full, sweet lips with his.
Even through the rather heavy material of his pants, Marilyn could feel his cock stirring impatiently against the pale skin of her inner thighs.
She experienced a strong new welling of desire herself, and she thrust her tongue far up between his lips. Straining with her own lips against his, she extended the wet sting of her tongue to the back of his throat and licked and teased the sensitive skin without mercy.
Bill somehow managed to raise his torso out of the way without ending the kiss. He parted the flaps of her nightie to lay bare the swollen mounds of her breasts.
While Marilyn continued to lick throughout the damp, hot cavern of his mouth, he eased his weight onto one forearm running along her side, then moved his hand up to clasp a spongy little tit, with its throbbing nipple. He commenced kneading the hot flesh, working the handful of passionately responsive titty this way and that.
All of a sudden he grasped the distended nipple between thumb and index finger, pinching the rubbery bit of flesh quite harshly, provoking it to grow larger, harder, more achingly excited.
Only after he had squeezed and twisted the nipple up to a state of overwhelming arousal did he move his hand down her abdomen, his fingers darting suddenly to her cunt.
He curled the tips of his fingers into her slit, dragging his nails along the tender lips. Deftly parting the red lips, he eased his middle finger in to search out the mouth of her vagina.
“Unnh!” Marilyn whined.
He was pushing the tip of his middle finger against her hymen, which began to tear at several weak points about the ring of its joining with the lining of her passage.
Marilyn commenced panting with desire when Bill turned his hand and moved his thumb up to frig the tip of her strongly jutting clitoris, and he kept up his harsh probing at her cherry membrane even as he frigged away at the aching sprout that was so alive with lust-primed nerve ends.
Marilyn splayed her legs farther, then farther still, until the skin of her inner thighs seemed to burn with tension, so tautly stretched was it over her quivering flesh.
/> She let out a brief, sharp yelp that signified a leap in the level of her hunger to be fucked, and she tipped her body slightly in Bill's direction, then stole her hand to his crotch. Searching at his fly, she found the tab of his zipper and yanked it down, and the catch at the front of his pants came undone on its own, allowing his cock and his heavy balls to surge out and down into her hand.
“Ooh,” she groaned, shivering with lust as she retracted his cock from his overburdened briefs. Bill decided it was time for him to get out of his clothes, which continued to restrain his thick, throbbing cock. He had to fight off Marilyn's hands from the hard shaft. But before long, his clothes were scattered on the floor at the side of the bed, whereupon he took his place once more beside his horny young bride.
Marilyn couldn't control her hand, which shot straight back to take hold of Bill's cock, her fingers this time tightly encircling the head of the erection. She commenced peeling and unpeeling the wrinkled folds of his foreskin, her eyes burning into his cock.
Bill wasn't idle as he was being frigged. His fingers stroked through her vulva, and his thumb tormented her clitoris with redoubled vigor.
Presently he sighed from deep in his throat, a sound that was almost a whine. A new, far more potent level of desire had been achieved by him, and he had to throw his body onto Marilyn's, an action that forced her to let go of his blood-filled cock.
“I love you,” he murmured, his lips almost touching hers.
He felt his glans burrowing between the lips of her pussy, and only an almost inhumanly determined effort of will enabled him to groan, “No. Not yet.” His eyes held hers and moistened, strong was his desire, and he added, “There's something I want to do first.”
“Please, Bill,” Marilyn said, her eyes begging.
But Bill refused to be swayed from his determination.
Snakelike, he moved his body down hers, stopping only when his face was above her groin. He pushed his fists into the mattress and elevated his torso, soon achieving a nearly erect posture from the waist up. He drew his legs, folded, under himself.