Was it six weeks later that I was in the shower with Arnold again? Yeah, just six weeks, and we’d been oozy and squoozy in the soap and water again for all of ten minutes when he said, “Sorry, I can’t wait.”
He rinsed us off, pulled me out of the shower, toweled me down, and tied my arms up with the belts from our terrycloth robes—elbows and wrists. I watched him as he toweled himself down. I liked doing that when I was tied up. When he was finished, he grabbed me by my longer hair and led me to the bedroom. The bed was a long way away because we were in the honeymoon suite of some old, rich, sheep rancher’s mansion in Napier, New Zealand, and this room was bigger than most living rooms. When we finally made it to the bed, he pushed me in and jumped on top of me.
“You’ve been a virgin long enough,” he said.
I was so happy to hear that! I kissed him so hard! I’d been his wife for a week now, and as much as I’d liked his not rushing me, I was no red wine. I’d aged enough. My time was now!
-- The End --