When he opens the door to the bridal suite she's already there, waiting.

She kneels upon the king-sized bed with love in her eyes, a passion reflected as he drinks in the sight of her, his lawful wedded wife. He stares in adoration at blue eyes filled with joy, at golden curls cascading, at her heart-shaped face smiling beneath the veil. Cleavage bared above the white corset, dress spilling out over the bed, sheer stockings and garter sheathing her long and supple legs. Like every bride on her wedding day, she's beautiful.

A warm summer breeze blows through the open window, where outside the sun tips down below the horizon. The movement of the curtains, the noise of the wind through them, is the only thing to break the silence.

Then he goes to her.

He strides towards their marital bed as his wife removes her veil, laying it delicately to one side. An inviting smile curves her full and pouty lips, red as roses, and her perfume fills the air. Her husband takes her hand, and their ringed fingers entwine as his other arm he loops around her, drawing her towards him. Their kiss is passionate, yet gentle.

Together, they remove her wedding dress. Together, they remove his black tuxedo. Together, they settle onto the bed.

Her lingerie is flattering, but no silk could be as soft as her bare, smooth skin. Her husband peels each item off her as if unwrapping a present, even as she unbuckles his belt and draws down his trousers. They kiss one another as they do it, sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce. Soon she is revealed. Her heavy breasts bounce with the deep breaths of her excitement; her man can feel her pulse racing as he caresses them.

Sweet moans part the silence as he runs his fingers across her wine-dark nipples, then slides one into his hungry mouth. Her back arches with pleasure as he smiles around her breast at the taste of her. Now his hands are free to roam, to explore the curve of her behind. Heart-shaped like her face, firm and bouncy, and all of it for him. His fingers sink into her bountiful buttocks as he squeezes them. His wife gasps.

By now, all she wears are her stockings and thong. Like the rest of her discarded outfit, they are as white and soft as snow. The thong will be off soon, but her husband is a leg man–she'll keep the stockings on, to make her lovely legs look even sexier. Her heart pounds as his hungry mouth swaps to the other breast, as his hands roam all over her; her own fingers entwine themselves in his hair, then scritch along his back.

It's wonderful. She wants more.

So she wraps those silk-sheathed legs around her brand new husband, squeezing tight, urging him on. His treatment of her nipples becomes more intense, almost verges on pain, and she loves every second. But there are other places that need his mouth's attention, so she guides his head up and out of her bountiful cleavage towards her face. His kisses run up her breasts and beyond–she feels them like a vampire's bite upon her neck, and whimpers at the feel of it. Then their lips meet once again.

Their tongues dance together. They take turns dominating, breathless in their passion. As they go on the man settles her down onto the bed, pressing down atop of her. Their lips part again and they gulp down air, staring into one another's eyes. He's poised above her, every inch of him tense with desire, whilst she lies below invitingly with her soft blonde tresses spread out over plump white pillows. Time seems to hang still.

It is then that his hand slips down to her inside thigh, and draws the lacy thong she wears aside. He slides it over her womanly hips, her firm thighs, her slender legs, and lets it fall to the bed like everything else. Then he leans over her again and kisses her once more, whilst his finger finds her entrance and neatly slips inside.

She gasps into his mouth and bucks her hips against his hand, only for his lips to claim hers with redoubled intensity. His finger pumps back and forth, the pleasure making her writhe and squeal, but she knows this is only the beginning. There is something else waiting for her, something bigger and stronger than any finger, any two fingers, could ever be. She feels giddy just thinking about it.

She can hardly wait.

One leg slides up his side, her soft foot tickling his body. She twists herself in his embrace, hooking her toes into his boxers and dragging them back down. Her dainty, silk-clad foot touches something then, something steel-hard and throbbing with desire, and she takes a moment to rub and tease it before she drags the last of his clothing off his body. She feels her husband hiss into her mouth, feels his body tremble, and giggles inwardly at the response. It feels good to make him gasp, to make him feel some of the pleasure he's giving her. Besides, if she can rattle him with just her foot, how good will the rest of her make him feel?

The thought makes her lust spike, puts a needy edge on her kisses, and just as she's getting impatient the man of her dreams changes tack. Withdrawing his now soaking finger, he runs it over her neat little folds, searching for something, seeking out the seat of her desire. He isn't long in finding it; a firm little nub, engorged with her arousal. He strokes it gently, steadily. Breaking the kiss, he lets his ladylove voice her pleasure, squeals and gasps and sweet little whimpers filling the air.

She pushes his head away from her then, breaking their kiss. His finger teases her clitoris as she stares into his eyes, her need blazing behind that sapphire gaze. Fair cheeks flushed, huge breasts heaving, she spreads her legs in their stockings and garters and says one word, expressing a thousand pages of lust in one whispered syllable:

"Now."

Her husband mounts her.

She accepts his manhood with no pain and a royal helping of pleasure; she broke her hymen long ago with fingers and toys, dreaming of this moment. And the fantasies, she's happy to note, were nothing in comparison. Tense and tight as she might be with anticipation, the oceans of her arousal let him slide within without protest, even as his girth stretches her pretty petals out. They moan together in ecstasy, both shaking, joined at last.

"I love you." Her husband gasps, wide-eyed.

She's the most soft, snug and deliciously tight thing in the universe. He's a huge, throbbing, steely-hard fulfilment with every thrust. The pair of them are in heaven. They hold hands, wedding rings glinting as he begins to move inside of her, two bodies becoming one in the night. The two of them quickly find a rhythm; it's like they were made for one other. His thrusts become steady, meeting her rolling hips with every downward stroke, and soon they're fucking as if they've been doing it all their lives. We will be, they both think.

Her pleasure is building steadily, excitement quickening as she rises, soars high, trusting in the ultimate fulfilment. Her husband is the opposite; he has felt the promise of bliss from the start, could give in to it swiftly should he choose to. But he doesn't; instead, he walks the edge like a tightrope, willing to go on forever if that's what it takes to please his virgin wife. The sound of the joy he gives her, the smell of her perfume and her warm, sweet skin, the feel of her wrapped around him as he fucks her for the very first time, is overwhelming. But it is the happiness on her face that he loves the most. He feels detached from the world and engulfed in her beauty all at once, as if she's put him in a trance.

She's so close. She's almost there. One last act, one more little push will take her higher than the clouds and over the edge into ecstasy. She arches her back and stares needily at her husband, then guides his hand back to her clit. A few touches. A few more strokes.

And then she's there. She screams, throwing back her head, thrashing and trembling in the sheets, coming, coming. Coming so hard. Her wedding night orgasm is upon her and it is everything she had always dreamed it would be, puts tears in her eyes from the sheer glorious bliss of it all. It's almost too much for her husband to take but he makes it, stays steadfast, fucks her through her orgasm until the tremors of pleasure subside. It's his duty to make this night the best he possibly can for her.

And when she's done she grabs him and pulls him down atop her, wraps those white-stockinged legs around him as tightly as she can, and whispers her love into his ear. His thrusts become frantic, lose their rhythm, speed up until he's a bucking, thrashing mess of a man, until finally, his voice rings out loud and desperate in the night. With one last throb, he erupts into her, losing every drop he has, pressing her down into the soft mattress and striving frantically to get as far inside her, as close to her as he possibly can. He roars as he reaches his peak, losing a groaning shout as his new wife drains his heavy balls.

When it's done he slumps down, spent, gasping for breath as hard as she is. They lie beside one another, gulping in heavy breaths, and then the reality of it hits them.

We've consummated our marriage.

"I love you." They both whisper at once, laughing as their words crash into one another. There are happy tears in their eyes. The beautiful blonde settles into her husband's arms, snuggling up against him even as his thick load begins to ooze from her freshly claimed pussy, his cum as white as her discarded dress. And slowly, happily, they fall asleep.

She wakes a few hours later feeling sticky. Disentangling herself from her man–her husband– she sits on the edge of the bed, a blush rising as she remembers their lovemaking. I just lost my virginity, she thinks softly. To my very own Mr. Right. She grins widely–it's like a fairytale made real. Raising one leg, she finally pulls the stockings off and lets them fall onto the floor; it's getting hot, and the garments have already fulfilled their purpose admirably. Then she pads over to the bathroom for a shower.

She doesn't notice her husband wake as she slipped out of his sleeping clutches. But if she had, she would have been most happy to know about the blaze of lust that burned in him as he watched her stretch her legs, unhook her garters, peel off her stockings. She would have very much liked to know how swiftly his flaccid cock sprung to life, becoming iron-hard and throbbing with arousal. Even after she emerges from the shower, dressing herself in the cute little nightie she bought for the occasion, she doesn't see him stir.

It's only when she pops back into bed that her husband moves, wrapping his arms around the sweetest, loveliest and most downright sexy woman he has ever met in his life. She squeaks adorably as he pulls her down atop him, his big cock pressing against her slit through the nightie.

A mischevious smile spreads across her pouty lips as she wonders what riding cowgirl feels like.

And their night of passion begins anew. The first of the rest of their lives.