THE SACRED AND THE PROFANE: THE WEDDING NIGHT
written by:
gladius

It was my wedding night, and I was already nervous. I unlocked the door to our newly-rented apartment, and as tradition dictated, I carried Mireille, my new bride, across the threshold. It was already late into the night, and had already said our goodbyes to the wedding guests still having a good time at the banquet hall, a short distance away. I eased Mireille on the floor, so I could lock the door behind me. I was a recent college graduate, and had just begun a career that held great promise for the future. Mireille, my wife, was still in her senior year in college, hence our apartment was situated within easy reach of the college campus where we had met, and where we had fallen in love....

I was in my second year of college when I met Mireille. I had elected to stay in the dormitories during that year, the same dorm I had stayed in during my freshman year. It was the first day of the new school year, and I was touring the dorm, meeting the new freshmen, and chatting with them a bit, doing my part to make them feel welcome. In one of the ground-floor rooms, on the opposite wing of the dorm building, I first met Mireille. The young, beautiful girl stunned me right away: a fair-skinned brunette of average height, with bright olive-green eyes, a feminine silhouette, and a beguiling smile. Her friendliness, her gentle manners, and modest behavior made a powerful impression on me. I assisted her during the freshman orientation, and her initial few days of college, and, shortly thereafter, we began dating. I had had a girlfriend during my freshman year, but we had broken up, so I was single and unattached when I met Mireille.

Our relationship developed normally, along with other relationships that developed among other dorm dwellers. Gossip was unavoidable in such circumstances, so, as time passed, pretty much everyone was up to speed on who was dating whom, who was breaking up, or having sex with whom, and so on. Some of the relationships subsequently lasted, while others assumed dramatic, soap-opera proportions. By contrast, Mireille never gossiped, and her behavior in public was always restrained, modest, with malice towards none.

When I thought that our relationship had progressed far enough, I made the first sexual overture towards my now-girlfriend. One warm, pleasant evening, as we returned from a nice stroll, I accompanied Mireille to her room, and we both entered, closing the door behind us. Her roommate was gone, and, as Mireille and I kissed, Swept in the loving moment, I delicately reached for the bottom edge of the pink polo shirt she was wearing, with the intention of removing it.

"I don't think so," Mireille said firmly, but with amazing poise, blocking my hands from accomplishing the shirt removal. "I love you to death, but if you want to have sex with me, you'll have to wait until we get married. Not earlier."

I was stunned, to be shot down with such grace, but I backed away. Looking back on this incident, I kick myself for missing some of the subtle clues that had been there all this time: the small gold crucifix necklace she wore around her neck... or the modest-sized (but still conspicuous) icon of the Virgin Mary on the wall beside her bed... not to mention her discreet absences on Sunday mornings. I felt so bad about not connecting these "dots" in her life, but our relationship continued. I got the message, and I was careful from then on, Mireille not needing to make any "corrections" except when our displays of affection got too hot and heavy, or when my hand ventured too far up her thigh for her liking.

Our relationship blossomed as the years went by, and, shortly before my graduation, I proposed to Mireille. At her request, we got married in her family's parish church, in a magnificent, liturgical ceremony, which turned out to be longer than our rehearsal had hinted it would be. The most indelible moment for me was Mireille's grand entrance in the church, at the start of the ceremony: she had chosen to wear a long, strapless wedding gown, a thin tiara, and her long brown hair gathered up in a bun at the back of her head. A gauzy veil covered the back of her head, reaching down to her lower back. The usual small gold crucifix necklace graced her neck. To say that she looked exquisite would be quite an understatement. For the sake of modesty, she had covered her bare shoulders with a thin, translucent white shawl for the duration of the religious ceremony, but had removed it for the banquet afterwards.

So there we were, in our apartment, late at night. The moment I've dreamed about for all these years was here... and was making me nervous. I removed my tuxedo jacket, placing it on one of the living room chairs. The apartment was small, but cozy, and more than adequate for our immediate needs.

"This is the happiest day of my life," I said, turning toward Mireille. I held her close to me, enjoying the feeling of her through the lovely wedding dress. We kissed like lovers do, filling me with desire to make the night truly special for my bride. She smiled at me with a heart-moving serenity, Holding Mireille in my arms, I could feel that this time the embrace would be more than a routine one.

"My husband... my beloved husband....," she said softly, as she pressed herself more firmly against me. My heart melted at the loving smile she then flashed me. I didn't know if I could describe myself as bold or shy at that moment. Standing there so close to me, Mireille looked simply superb, and I wanted to enjoy the sight of her, with her beautiful face, and expertly-applied makeup. This was the night that I felt like I was about to unwrap a gift that I've been waiting for a long time. As I felt my bride's body close to me, my hand ran down her back, touching the numerous buttons present there. My bride felt my touch, and looked up at me.

"This is the moment you've been waiting for, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, my love," I answered softly.

"You know.... It has been mine, as well," Mireille said.

I caressed her beautiful face, and she gave me one of her trademark smiles. My hand wandered into her tightly-arranged hair, and began removing the hairpins holding the veil in place. She began working on my wardrobe, as well, undoing my black bowtie, and unbuttoning my shirt. All my desire for my new wife flooded my mind, and I began to feel somewhat nervous. Mireille needed my assistance to remove my cummerbund from around my waist, but was successful; I reciprocated by finishing the removal of the head veil, and of the thin tiara. We kicked off our respective shoes, and I was truly turned on by the view of Mireille's brown hair falling free. That was enough to give me an instant erection.

"Our marital bed awaits," I mumbled shyly, taking my wife delicately by the hand. As we walked together to our bedroom, I couldn't help but think of my new father-in-law, who had helped bring it in the apartment, and assemble it. I spared a thought for Mireille's other family members: her mother, her four brothers, and her two sisters, one of whom was a twin, and had been Mireille's maid of honor at the wedding. A marvelous, wholesome family, who had raised my beloved Mireille very well.

I opened the door to our modest marital chamber, with its conventional layout: the large bed, a rectangular mirror on the wall, nightstands on both sides of the bed, a large dresser drawer, and a built-in closet. We kissed again, and Mireille finished removing my shirt. I reached behind my beloved's back, and, slowly undid her gown's numerous loop-and-button closures. She undid my slacks, and they fell on the carpet. Mireille raised her hands slightly, allowing the portion of her dress covering her breasts and torso to fall down. Her breasts, hitherto hidden from me, were uncovered in their full beauty: full and round, proportional to her body's shape. Her left breast had a small beauty mark above it. Naturally, I fondled the breast softly, savoring its firmness, and my ears were delighted by my wife's increasingly hard breathing. My socks were the next items of clothing to go, and then my hands joined hers in the effort to remove her bridal dress completely. Our joint effort succeeded, and my eyes were enthralled by the view of Mireille's almost-naked body, with its feminine, graceful shape, and the sexiest frilly white lace tanga panties imaginable. My bride made short work of my briefs, my hard member springing into her view. I surprised her by taking her hand, and manipulating it on a stroking motion. I could see my bride blush, but her hand stayed on my genitals, allowing her to explore them.

"It feels so good," I muttered, lost in the pleasurable feeling. It was my turn to unveil my wife's private parts, gently lowering her panties, and removing them completely. Her pussy was hidden under a big triangle of rather sparse pubic hair. It was my turn to stroke her private parts, slowly, tenderly, as I appreciated the pleasant effects the move had on Mireille.

"I love you.... I need you... and want to spend my entire life with you," I said softly, kissing my beloved. We kissed again, and we fell together on the bed. We both got our bearings and adjusted, embracing again meaningfully, passionately, as our kissing got more intense.

"I'm all yours tonight," Mireille said in a sultry, seductive voice that filled me with a wild, animalistic desire. I rolled my new wife on her back, and, swept in the passion of the moment, I whispered encouraging, appreciative, romantic words. Her face was turning to a sexy shade of pale pink. Having desired this moment for so long, I hesitated a bit, but the expression on my bride's face was so inviting, I just couldn't hesitate for much longer. My hand once again stroked Mireille's pussy, gently opening her legs. My heart was beating faster, while her breathing was no longer normal. I manipulated my manhood to her opening, feeling its folds, and its increasing dampness. Going in slowly, I pushed gently inside my bride, making her body buck slightly, as my raging hardness pushed its way in. I began thrusting with greater confidence, occasioning louder and louder moans from her. In the bright light of the room, I could see my wife's body reacting to my intruding stiffness, reactions which served to embolden me in a very provocative way.

Soon afterwards, I lost all control. I thrust past the resistance my penis was encountering, eliciting from my wife a shrill squeal, an, for a fraction of a second, a startled look in her eyes. As my thrusting continued, less impeded this time, I noticed Mireille's increasingly obvious facial scowls, the reddening of the skin under her graceful neck, and the louder, more unrelenting moans. Her eyes, the lovely eyes that had enthralled me for so long, were by now closed shut, giving her entire face an erotically-disfigured look. Her mouth was tightening shut and opening partially, her teeth baring, as her pussy took all of me in. Her face contorted like it was about to let loose a scream, but her teeth clenched again, in between her increasingly out-of-control body twitches.

"Aaahhh!" I rumbled, as my body finally gave in, and I came inside her. With a distorted facial expression, letting off a short, but sweet noise, as her pussy's inside squeezed my penis until it reached a flaccid state.

"I want you," I managed to blurt out, as I eased myself beside my wife. "I love you like you can't imagine."

"I think I can, my dear," she said, as her wave of pleasure was beginning to wear off.

"I feel completed now," I confessed gingerly. I kissed her again, but she pulled away. It became apparent that she was experiencing a bit of discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, as Mireille squeezed her legs together, and rolled away from me.

"I'm okay," she said, looking back at me, after a few moments. "I'll be fine, in a little bit."

I sat up, intending to embrace her from behind, to reassure her, but she turned around. Placing her hands on my chest, she pushed me back down, and glanced over to her side of the bed. A small blood stain confirmed Mireille's past virgin status.

"I was a maiden, now I'm a woman," she said with a theatrical flourish, as she visibly felt more relaxed. "That's the way I always dreamed it to happen, and I'm glad that it was with you, my husband."

What could I possibly say? I embraced her once more, clutching her close to me. Our Hawaiian honeymoon, for which we had a flight the following day, would be so much fun... not to mention a life together after that.