Honeymoon

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The second suitcase packed, Emma plopped down on the bed. I finished looking around the hotel suite, making sure we weren’t forgetting anything. Main room – check. Bathroom – check. Balcony – check. Bedroom – check. Just our bags in here. And Emma, of course. I smiled at her. It was hard to believe our honeymoon was coming to an end. Only an hour or so before the taxi would be here to take us away from our little island paradise, to our flight back to the real world.

I sat down on the edge of the bed next to Emma. She smiled at me. Still beautiful as ever. Chin-length blonde hair, barely blue eyes, soft skin, petite and pale. She wore shorts and a spaghetti-strap shirt for the flight home. I still couldn’t believe she was my wife. I smiled back at her, and held her hand.

Our fingers intertwined for a few seconds; then, as expected, she slid her hand out of mine. I let her slide her hand up, along my hand, to my wrist. Emma gripped my wrist, loosely at first, sliding her hand this way and that around it playfully, smiling at me softly. Suddenly, she tightened her grip on it, squeezing my wrist just a bit firmly at first, then gradually squeezing more, until her grip was almost painful. In private, this was often our way of holding hands. Her elbow nestled in mine, forearm along mine, her hand locked onto my wrist. I knew, at this point, I’d better be looking directly at Emma’s eyes, and absolutely nowhere else.

Emma loosened her grip a little. It wasn’t much, hardly noticeable, as she held my gaze.

“Was it everything you expected, Chris?”

“Yes, Emma. Well, yes. For the most part it was.”

“For the most part? What wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, Emma. Almost everything was.”

It was hard finding exact answers while holding Emma’s unwavering gaze. Her face was soft and cute, but she had a curious stare that let me know she meant business.

“Just maybe, well Emma…”

“We did everything we planned, right?”

“Yes, Emma. We did. And it was all wonderful.”

“And we loved being together.”

“Of course, Emma.”

I leaned in and nuzzled her.

“Your behavior was perfect. Well, for the most part.” She smiled, and I laughed. Then we both laughed. “Seriously, Chris, your behavior was fine. I never even had to get the paddle out of the suitcase.”

I felt a sudden chill, and took a quick breath.

“You would’ve paddled me on our honeymoon?”

“Absolutely. If you’d done something to deserve it. Why’d you think we packed it?”

“Just as a threat? To keep me on my best behavior?”

“Threats only work if you follow through, Chris. I always follow through.” She tightened her grip.

“I know you do, Emma.” She smiled at me, keeping a tight grip on my wrist. Yes, I knew she did. It was one of the many reasons I loved her.

“Sex? It was wonderful, wasn’t it? You got to see me naked, Chris…”

“It WAS wonderful Emma. It’s just…”

“What is it?”

“Well…”

The problem was hard to describe. I didn’t want to complain, or sound ungrateful. I did have a wonderful time. And I knew our honeymoon would be a bit unconventional. After all, our relationship wasn’t exactly conventional. But that’s what we both loved about it.

Our wedding night, before we even left for this island, was a treat. Emma let me see her in a nightgown, a sexy gown, which made her look incredible without being too revealing. We slept in a bed together for the first time ever. Emma slowly undressed me and enjoyed the sight of me, while letting me just feel the contours of her body, through her gown. It was an amazing experience. No more than that.

“Save it for our island,” Emma had whispered to me, always patient, as I snuggled with her, trying to fall asleep naked cuddled against her silky gown.

Arriving at the resort we had unpacked, then had dinner. Later, that night in bed, Emma again undressed me, and let me enjoy the feeling of her hands all over me, as wel as the sight of her in a slightly skimpier gown. Just slightly. And after all that, after kissing tenderly for awhile, I stretched out naked on top of the covers in the pitch black, complete darkness, while I was allowed to listen to Emma, right beside me, her hand beneath her gown, masturbating herself to orgasm.

Emma had fallen asleep contented, face in my shoulder. I lay there, trying to sleep, amazed that I’d been allowed to be in Emma’s presence during her pleasure. It had been the first time. I tried to bask in the glow of her pleasure, tried to let her pleasure be my pleasure, as Emma had taught me. Eventually, I did fall asleep.

Over the next days, we enjoyed exploring the island by day, each other by night. And sometimes, to be honest, by day. By the second day, Emma treated me to a little show, removing her gown and letting me see her in just a bra and panties. And that night, I lay naked beside her, watching her masturbate in the soft light. This had been the first time I’d been allowed to watch. It stunned me how beautiful she was when she pleasured herself.

The next night she was guiding my hand to Betist that precious spot, her hand on mine, as she let me bring her pleasure – through her silk panties, of course. A night later, I got the privilege of seeing Emma completely naked, little by little over the course of hours. That sort of experience is something that has to be savored. And late at night, she let me touch her everywhere, and bring her to climax with my hand – guided, of course, by hers.

The following two days and nights, it seemed, were spent entirely with Emma’s hands on the back of my head, teaching me exactly how to please her orally. After being gradually introduced to her body, this seemed like such an indulgence, getting to know the contours of Emma so intimately, her smell, her taste, her response. Hearing her gasp, hearing Emma scream in pleasure, I tried to imagine the feeling, to bask in her orgasm. Which brought me back to the present, our conversation, my attempt to answer her question. I tried my best to be honest.

“Well, Emma, everything was absolutely wonderful. And I knew this week would be completely about your pleasure, and about me enjoying your pleasure. I’ve loved pleasing you. I do love it. And I’m trying to make your pleasure my pleasure, and I’m trying to be completely satisfied with that. I know that I’ll HAVE to be completely satisfied with that most of the time. Almost all of the time. And I’m fine with that. But this is our honeymoon, Emma. And I just thought that maybe, just once on THIS trip, I might get to experience, well, you know…”

Emma lowered her gaze a bit, and looked at me as if she weren’t going to say it for me.

“Release.”

“I see. Chris…” Emma sighed, lowered her gaze a bit, then looked straight into my eyes. “Chris, we’ve only been sexual together for a week. You’re not going to experience release every week. It’ll be a lot less frequent than that, I can promise you.”

“I know, Emma. I’m expecting that. But this week, well, it’s special. I just thought…”

Emma smiled. “Yes, it IS our honeymoon.” She sighed. “There’s something else. I didn’t want you to be disappointed on our honeymoon. You have to understand something, Chris. The way you’re going to have release. At first, it’s going to be – well – let me say it this way. Over time, it will become more and more, let’s say, intimate. But at first, each time, it will be more, you could call it practical.” She gave me a cute smile.

My face dropped. “Do I just have to masturbate?”

“Oh dear god no, Chris! I’m never going to let you masturbate with your hand. Every time you squirt, it will be on me, or in me. Every time. Remember, Chris – all of your pleasure comes from me. All of it. Always.” She stopped, seeming to think about how to explain it. “It might just be best for you to learn by doing. So why don’t we just get started?”

Emma smiled at me. I was suddenly excited, but unexpectedly nervous.

“Chris, I want you to take off your clothes.”

I smiled. “Yes, Emma.”

She let go of my wrist, and I stood up, and quickly took off all of my clothes. It felt strange, the way she just watched me andsmiled mysteriously. God, she was so cute. We were smiling and excited, but something about the way she looked at me was intimidating. In about a minute, I was naked, standing in front of Emma, who was still sitting on the bed. She took each of my hands in hers, and gave me a big devious smile.

“Ready?” A sort of cute whisper.

“Yes, Emma.” I thought I was.

“Good.” Emma let go of my hands, and turned suddenly much more serious. She just stared at me, unsmiling. “OK, Chris – kneel. On your knees, facing me. I want your knees spread wide. As wide as you can spread them. And your hands folded behind your back. Clear?”

“Yes, Emma.”

I knelt, lowering my eyes. This suddenly felt even more weird, but I was still too excited to take too much stock of the attitude shift. On my knees, I folded my hands behind my back, then spread my thighs, moving my knees apart from each other, letting my cock hang exposed to Emma.

“Wider.” She was all business.

“Yes, Emma.”

I spread my legs until they were nearly in a straight line to either side of me, and my inner thighs ached. Emma just waited for a few minutes. I waited too, wondering what was going on. Finally, she spoke.

“Look at me.”

“Yes, Emma.”

“Listen, Chris. For the time being, every time you release, you’re going to do it on my foot. On the top of my foot. That’s the only place you’re allowed to, for now, and for quite awhile. Unitl I say so. Got it?”

“Yes, Emma.” I took a deep breath.

“So you’ll get in position just like this, and I’ll give you my bare foot. You’ll wait until I give it to you, and then you can rub against the top. Your hands stay behind your back. The only pressure you’re allowed to have on your penis is the pressure I provide. Remember, all your pleasure comes from me. So when I push my foot against it, you can rub. But when I take it away, you stop. You don’t keep trying to rub. OK?

“OK, Betist Giriş Emma.”

And you only rub on the top of my foot. ONLY the top. Just the top – the instep. No touching me anywhere above the ankle. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand, Emma.”

“If you do, you get the paddle. And one more thing, Chris. This is NOT sex. This is just a way for you to have some release. Don’t ever think of this as sex, OK? Sex is about WHOSE pleasure?”

“Sex is about your pleasure, Emma.”

“That’s right. And only my pleasure. And that’s the way it will always be.”

“Yes, Emma. I understand, Emma.”

She smiled, barely, the right corner of her mouth turning upward just a very little bit. Still, Emma stared at me, for a what seemed like a long minute, then another. I took a deep breath. Finally, she bent down, and took the shoelaces of her left shoe, on my right, in her hand. I watched her fingers, cute little hands, short-cut nails, slowly, ever so slowly it seemed, untie the white shoelaces, then pull slightly on the sides of the white canvas shoe. Then Emma lifted her foot to the side of the bed, and gripping the back of the shoe with one hand, pulling it off with the other, and letting it drop, revealing her bare foot.

Pale, cute, and so small.

My thighs were stretched so wide they were aching, and my cock was rock-hard. I breathed deeply. I was focused on Emma’s cute little foot, so when she spoke again, it came as a surprise.

“Look at me.”

“Yes, Emma.” I looked up, at her face.

“Remember the rules, Chris. Only rub when I give you my foot. Only then, only on the top.”

“Yes, Emma.”

“Now you can look at my foot.”

I looked. Cute as ever. Still, Emma waited, another minute, then another. Finally, after another agonizing minute, this beautiful foot stretched out between my aching legs, toward my cock, and pressed, just barely, against its underside.

Oh. My. God. It felt like heaven. At that glorious moment of contact with her amazing, sexy foot, I was in paradise. I let out a long, heavy sigh, and slight moan, at just the touch of it, before I’d even moved. Emma laughed, just a little, before tucking her hair back behind her ear and resuming her serious pose. I pulled back with my hips, then forward. Emma provided slight pressure with her foot. I pulled back and pushed forward again, then again, arching my back.

This pressure, only on the underside, unmatched on the top, was incredibly weird. I wanted so badly to move my hands, to press down on my cock, squeeze it between my hand and Emma’s foot. Oh god. Backward and forward again and again. Indescribable frustration, coupled with the amazing sensation of contact that I’d been longing for all week. I groaned out loud. Suddenly, I experienced an even stranger, more disappointing sensation. Emma removed her foot, drawing it down and back.

I groaned louder; this felt horrible. Looking into her eyes, Emma simply stared at me, and gave me a slight smile. I didn’t think it was possible, but I became even more erect. I felt myself panting.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute later, an eternal minute, but eventually Emma pushed her bare instep back against my cock’s underside, such a sweet feeling, and I immediately thrust forward, pulled back, fast as I could, hips working, a lot of work for very little sensation, finally beginning to feel close to release when Emma’s foot suddenly disappeared again.

Oh god this was thr height of frustration. This felt strange, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Mythighs ached, Emma stared at me harshly, with a satisfied little smirk. My cock had this throbbing sensation of almost-but-not-quite, will-I-or-won’t-I, almost a lost feeling, when I again felt Emma’s foot against me, just for a second, not even long enough to do anything about it, no time to stroke, and I felt almost on the edge of – of something – and it was again gone, and then I whined, deep and long, and Emma laughed.

Emma laughed, loud and sincere, watched me closely, then again just tapped me underneath with her foot, the ridge just above her toes, oh god, so good but so bizarre, then maybe ten seconds later she gave it one more tiny almost imperceptible tap. And then, the strangest thing happened.

I felt like I couldn’t hold it any longer. I needed release. I needed contact with something, contact with anything. Emma bobbed her cute little foot a few inches below my cock, then raised it, holding it just below my glans.

I was expecting a touch that wasn’t coming. The need, the ache, oh god, I was whining! I clasped my hands tightly behind my back to keep myself from reaching around and grabbing myself, holy shit, and this was bizarre; something was coming, and Emma was watching, and this was weird and embarrassing, like having to pee and not being able to hold it and everyone knowing, almost release but not really the good kind, and I threw my head back in frustration.

Suddenly my cock started twitching, all on its own, then jerking, sort of jerking in mid-air, and then just a little, a tiny little bit of cum just started dribbling out, not really squirting, just dribbling, then a little more, and it felt nice, it felt OK, but not like I was expecting, not like release, definitely not orgasmic, another little drip and now it was actually burning, then another drip and another and another, now dripping onto Emma’s bare foot.

Emma was moving her foot, positioning it to catch these little drips. My cock had stopped spasming now. It was just dripping out little bits of semen, a little more, then a little more, then it softened a little and a long thin kind of string of it, there’s no other way to describe it, essentially drained out of my penis onto Emma’s foot.

The feeling, that bizarre feeling had passed, with no real pleasure anywhere in it, just a hard-to-describe sense of embarrassment, and no sense of relief at all, no satisfaction. The feeling had mutated into a new sense of frustrating more-having-to-come-out, something-stuck-in-there, balls-aching-and-something-is-wrong sensation. I felt there was plenty more that could come if this had been done in a normal way, and god my balls ached worse now, and the little drips had apparently stopped, even though I knew there was much more that needed to come. Emma’s bare foot was covered in little blobs, watery in parts with thicker white goops in it. She looked at me and smiled.

“Better?”

“I – I guess so, Emma.”

“Well get used to it, Chris. That’s how it works. At least for now.”

My erection was fading very slowly. Emma waited until I was completey soft, then reached up with her foot and used part of her toes, a part that wasn’t already covered, to wipe up the little bit of semen that had dribbled onto the underside of my cock when it had first started flowing. Then she carefully held her foot back where I could see it better.

“Chris, that was a privilege. Now you need to lick this up and swallow it.”

My stomach dropped, and I think I gasped. “Emma?”

Leaning back on the bed, she held her foot up closer to my face. “Now, Chris. I mean it. I couldn’t be more serious. Don’t test me.”

I was horrified, but I didn’t dare disobey Emma. My stomach was already in knots. “Y-yes, Emma.”

Hands still behind my back, I bent over as far as I could, and placed my face up to Emma’s bare foot. The intensity of the smell of it surprised me. Oh god. I hesitated, then heard Emma’s voice. “NOW, Chris.”

“Yes, Emma.”

I pressed the tip of my tongue against a clean part of Emma’s foot. It’s not like I’d never licked her feet before. Slowly, I licked, taking a little bit of the sticky, gooey stuff onto my tongue. The taste was horrible, but the texture was worse.

“Chris, ALL of it. NOW.”

I tried to swallow what was in my mouth, but it didn’t really go down. It just sort of got pushed to the back of my tongue, sticking against the very edge of my throat in a thick mass,which felt horrible. I then took a big giant lick over all of Emma’s foot, then another, and took basically all of the nasty stuff into my mouth. Still, I couldn’t make myself swallow. I felt Emma’s hand on my chin, pulling me up.

“Open your mouth.”

I opened it, as she looked inside, discovering that I hadn’t swallowed.”

“God, Chris!” Closing my mouth, she put her hands on both sides of my face, and leaned in close, whispering to me. “Chris, you have to swallow. You have to do it. That. Is. An. Order.”

It took several attempts to get it all down. It kept wanting to get stuck in my throat, and wanting to come back up as phlegm. Oh god it was horrible. But I did it. I did it for Emma.

“Mouth open.” I obeyed. Emma inspected my mouth, making sure it was gone, then closed it, and cradled my face in her hands. “Good boy.” She placed a long, tender kiss on the center of my forehead. “Now go get a warm washcloth, and come back and wash my foot.”

“Yes, Emma.”

Taking a deep breath on the way to the bathroom, I tried to compose myself. I was shaking. I returned with the warm washcloth, then knelt before Emma. Slowly, gently washing her foot clean, I made sure to intersperse the washing with plenty of long, reverent kisses to her instep, trying to kiss her foot in each spot where my spunk had landed. Serving her, I slowly reconciled myself to the reality of my situation, of what my sexual life would be for quite some time. I was still in a bit of shock, but it wore off as I did what I enjoyed best – adoring Emma.

Still washing, caressing, kissing her foot, the phone rang. Our taxi had arrived to take us to the airport. Emma quickly dried her foot and replaced her shoe as I dressed as fast as I possibly could. There was no time to take a drink of water. So within minutes, we were piling into the taxi, leaving for the airport, ready to fly home from our honeymoon and start our new life together as a loving, if unconventional, married couple. As we started the journey Emma smiled, discreetly and firmly holding my wrist, as my balls ached unbearably, and I tried to savor a salty, bitter taste permeating my entire mouth and throat, a slight sense of nausea in my stomach. It was a strange life I had chosen with Emma, I thought as we pulled into the confusion of the busy tropical airport, barely in time for our flight. I was ready for it.

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