Chapter 6

Haley’s turn:

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been sitting in OUR SUV heading out for an overnight with my Bill. I was nervous the first time, I mean, after all, going out of town with a guy to stay at a hotel, you just KNOW you’re gonna go to bed with him, and when it’s me and my Bill, that’s a felony.

This time, though, I’m not nervous. I’m giddy. The difference? One more time I hold my left hand up, looking at the gold band around my ring finger. I’m married. Sixteen. Married. And our honeymoon’s gonna be this ONE night, at least for right now. If things stay on track, we will do something spectacular later, maybe a cruise or something.

Honestly? I’d like to find an isolated cabin somewhere that Bill and I could rent for a week or two, just me and him, in the woods or on a mountainside, just us together. Galveston will work for the time being, though. I turn to look at MY Bill. He’s paying attention to driving because we’re still on city streets.

Some of the KIDS at school made fun of me this week: “She’s in luvvvvvv...”

It’s not an insult if it’s true and I like it. I’m in love. Been like that for years.

And I kept my hands to myself until we got on the interstate, out past the towns and traffic. Open road? Open season.

“I’m s’posed to be the frightened little bride all afraid of what’s gonna happen on her wedding night.”

“My dear little Haley,” Bill said, “I distinctly remember a freshly de-virginated little girl giving me a lecture on marriage validation in 19th century America.”

“You’re right,” I smiled. I squeezed my thighs together remembering THAT time. “I wasn’t scared that time, either.”

“I was the scared one. Fourteen year old Haley is probably the most delightful felony ever committed.”

I giggled. My Bill really thinks so. I know what I am to most of the world. I’m short and I have brown hair and brown eyes and little titties and most people don’t see me when they look at a bunch of girls or a bunch of women.

I think that Bill doesn’t see those others, he just sees me. He’s always made me feel like that. That alone is worth marrying. The guy who’s always talked to me and with me and not AT me, that’s worth marrying. The guy who treats me like I’m more than a sperm receptacle, that’s worth marrying. The guy who treats Mom and Mister Steve and Little Steve like decent people, that’s worth marrying.

So I married him.

Now the miles are rolling by behind us. We’re gonna take the coast road to Galveston. That means more scenery and going as far as we can on the Interstate, and it means a short ferry ride and we can get out of the car for a little bit. Sometimes we see porpoises.

First time I saw them I got excited. Then I thought about it.

“I act like a kid. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“You just go ahead and be happy, Haley. Never lose your joy. Never be afraid to say you LIKE something.”

“‘S neat.”

“It is.”

That was before we were married, of course, and I couldn’t just fall into his arms and kiss him and tell him how wonderful he makes me feel. Not any more. I fingered that new ring. He’s mine.

It was a pretty day for the drive, at least as long as you didn’t have to get out in the heat of late summer and move around much. Bill and I spend many a late afternoon under the tree in his yard – Oops! OUR yard, now – just reading or playing chess, but if we were doing yard work, it was Sweat City. Of course, after Mom figured out that we should just go ahead and BE together, Bill and I showered together most of the time, so sweat wasn’t an issue.

Today? Air conditioned car. Rolling along. Took a us a little wait in line for the Galveston ferry, but as soon as we got parked on it, we got out, let the Gulf breeze, helped along by the ferry’s motion, keep us cool. And porpoises.

And onto the streets of Galveston. We know a great restaurant for lunch. Did that.

Giggle. “It’s time, baby,” I told him. “Hotel.”

“No walk down The Strand?”

“Been there,” I giggle. “Ain’t never been to a hotel room with a married guy.”

“You’re the youngest married woman I’ve ever been with,” he said.

Yeah, I know, I’m Wife #2. Wife #1 has not a clue about what she gave up. She didn’t see what I see.

We parked the car and went into the hotel. I stood there like a good little wife, holding my bag while Bill attended to getting us checked in.

I’m starting to get BUTTERFLIES! Bill and I have been making love for two years now and I’m getting butterflies just thinking about him and me in that room.

The room is sun-lit, fifth floor, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico from the balcony. Our bedroom back home is kind of dark. A tree prevents us from EVER having real sunlight come through the windows, not like that’s a bad thing, but I’m looking at a king-sized bed, white, brightly lit, and I am Missus Bill Simon, here with my husband, and I intend to present myself to him ON that bed, without reservation, gladly, ecstatically.

“You’re thinking, sweetie,” he said.

“I am.” I stepped up to him and kissed him in a fashion that should leave little doubt as to what (or who) was to come next.

“Grab a corner,” he said, stepping to the bed. “Let’s turn the covers back.”

“Premeditated,” I snickered.

“A very measured approach, dear,” he smiled.

Covers back. Clothes off.

“Stand up for a second,” I commanded. “I wanna look.”

He did. Erect. Jutting out at a jaunty upward angle, just begging for attention. I crawled across the bed on all fours.

“Closer,” I said.

He knew exactly how close.

I can’t do that ‘deep throat’ thing, but I can sure enjoy half of it in my mouth all day, and I can bounce it deeper for a second. And sucking. I love sucking my Bill. He feels so alive in my mouth.

This time it’s just for a few moments as would be expected for a new bride on her wedding bed. When I pull away, he rolls me onto my back and covers me. I’m little. He’s big. And when he does this, traps me under him, I get the shakes, pure anticipation.

“It’s WET,” I giggle.

“Me or you?”

Giggle. “Both!” I squeak, throwing my arms around his neck, pulling him in for kisses. That’s ONE move. The other is my legs spreading. I know what we need. So does Bill. I can’t stifle the moan of pleasure as he enters me, filling me the way I’m meant to be filled. Fulfilled. I take him like this for a bit, then I gently shove, signaling that I want to be on top.

I love being on top. I sit back, rising, looking at his face, knowing the rapture that’s beginning to take it over is the ‘us’ that defines our marriage. Like I said – it has for two years prior to a judge signing our marriage license. I can change the angle I’m hitting him. That’s for my benefit, and why not? I know that he’s trying NOT to come, but when I start losing it, he’s going to ... A couple more pushes. It’s close for me. A couple more and the flames overcome me and through the heat and light I feel the life pulse from him into me.

I suppose I could’ve taken that opportunity to roll off him, but I don’t like to do that and neither does he, so I fold my arms on his chest, put my chin on them, and gaze into those damned blue eyes that captivated me so long ago.

“You’re this perfect little thing,” he said. “Wanna marry me?”

“I’d love to, but I’m already given to this horrible guy who just squirted all up in me.”

“If I promise to eat you, would you change your mind?”

Giggle. “Only if I had something to nibble on, myself.”

“Turn around, you,” he grinned.

I love ‘im when he’s just finished from coming in me. He’s sort of soft and sticky and it’s tasty and fun and honestly I’d say more about it but his mouth forms over my pussy, his tongue starts working magic, and my speech centers start shutting down. The first time we ever did this, I came. This time, I came. It’s wonderful. He rides me through my orgasm’s aftermath with little kisses until I trust myself to turn around to face him.

“You know I love you, don’t you, Bill?”

“Either that or you’ve been fooling the hell out of everybody for two years, baby.”

“I can’t fake that. You KNOW I love you.”

“I do. And I love you just as desperately.” He’s touching my face, fingertips lightly brushing my hair back, gently caressing.

I let a long sigh out, still feeling tingles and surges from that last orgasm. Stretched, kissed his face. “You do know it’s not just about sex, huh?”

“I know, little angel,” he told me softly, “but after THAT, if it was purely sex, you’d be the candidate.”

“Beast!” I squeaked, “But, yeahhhhh...”

That got me a power cuddle as he swept me into his arms, letting me giggle and form myself against him. I felt the lump of his semi-hard dick trapped between us. Started tingling again, I did. I feel protected.

I know, I know ... I’ve heard the party line about men being, in one girl’s words, ‘superfluous’. She’s proud of her vocabulary and her multicolor hair. I wonder if she’s as proud of that extra fifty pounds she carries, and forgive me for saying it, but if she’d just experienced what I just experienced, she’d be hunting some dude down and chaining herself to him.

I like feeling protected. I’ve read some things, trying to understand and analyze my feelings, and another theme shows up quite a bit about females and horses.

Okay, first off, Bill is NOT like a horse, not THERE. Six inches. I know, because I’ve sat in the bed, him erect, me giggling, tape measure in hand. In this day of the Internet, it’s easy to find information about what ‘big’ is and what ‘normal’ is. My Bill. Normal.

Back to that ‘horse’ thing. How about the angle of having a powerful beast between one’s thighs? I smile when I think about that, because that idea hits close to home. I love being on top of Bill. Powerful? He’s not one of those ripped bodybuilder types, but I’ve seen muscles ripple on him, not because he’s in a gym, straining on some machine, but because he’s trying to clear up a fallen branch after a bad thunderstorm, you know, REAL work.