Both men and women imagine how it will be like on their first night after their wedding. It’s even more so because in India there’s way less exposure regarding sex.
Most people mask their sexual identity and have severe repressed feelings of guilt around the act beyond a conventional setting. So there’s fantasy and story woven into thoughts around the first night. More fantasy than reality.
Most times the act doesn’t live up to the high expectations. It’s alright. There’s plenty of opportunity after.
There’s no reason why you can’t live the fantasy again later during another period of your life. This forms the premise of this story.
A reader of this blog wanted to relive her memories and contacted me with a strange request.
To help her celebrate her suhaagraat again.
A high-flying career set on the backdrop of a thriving family life, even a kid that’s what Richa’s life was. She multi-tasked managing both family and career. But, things went southward for her one day and things headed to a divorce.
At 33, she stared at restarting her life from scratch. A few months into this, she felt that familiar itch. The absence of a man in life who could please her. Yes, she would finger herself often but that wasn’t enough. She wanted real connection that transcended boundaries anyone could conjure up.
Not being married didn’t mean she had to live by the rules men imposed on her. She was finally free and wanted to live life on her own terms.
So that was when Richa emailed me. Circumspect, unassuming, the ask terrified of itself is how I remember the message.
“I am Richa. 33, divorced. Want to talk.”
The message even with the longest stretch of imagination didn’t tell me anything of the turmoil within her or what she wanted.
As I would later find, even the self-pleasure she indulged in was long divorced from pleasure. The motive for what she did now was mostly to feel something different. The need had now changed. She wanted an emotional connection, to be felt, to be enjoyed and then enjoy herself. She wanted to be seen as another human being.
And for reasons that are too many to list here life had taken that away from her.
I gave her my number. She talked..a lot. She told me about her life before. About how she feels disconnected from reality. She spoke of the sadness that defines her every waking moment.
We spoke for days and I began to understand Richa further. Fresh out of the shock of a divorce she didn’t want to be tied down by the baggage of another. But she wanted to feel wanted even if its for a single night.
I asked her for pictures. She sent them. I replied, “I want to scoop you out of these clothes, and kiss every godforsaken crevice, inch and space on your body. I want to bury my face in your breasts. And keep it buried there.”
It was as if a new life had awoken within her. She replied saying she wanted all of that and more and that’s when she articulated her fantasy.
It wasn’t enough for her to get laid. She wanted it to be like the very first time she was with a man. And that meant she was to be a new bride for a night, the clothes, the mehendi and jewelry all on. She wanted the trepidation, the excitement and the nervous flutter of that night once again. As her man, I could use her anyway I wanted.
I agreed. It’ll be fun I thought.
We decided on a date and time. It was her place. I arrived by night. She opened the door an event. Red saree twined with gold beads and a ghoonghat that partially masked her face. She was in it for real.
She led me by her hand to the bedroom where candles illuminated the marital bed. And she sat, her legs tucked neatly inside waiting with bated breaths.
Jasmine flowers and rose petals lined the bed. On the side table there was a single glass of milk. Tradition dictates the man drink his half and give the woman her half. I did that after lifting her veil.
Her face revealed modest makeup. Nothing too fancy. I drank my share and gave her the glass. She finished the glass. I approached her and we kissed.
I tasted milk at first. And then, I tasted her, as we smooched. Her full luscious lips, her tongue and her mouth. The more I kissed the more she kissed back. It ignited passion within the both of us. I wanted her more than ever and it seemed she wanted me back the same way.
I left her panting and shaking. I had to taste her fully. I started undressing Richa. Tradition dictates you start with the breasts. I had to begin there, size them up, feel their softness and suckle on them.
By this time, I was fully turned on.
I removed her top, and approached the bra underneath. I could see her white flesh eager to get out. I removed her bra, finally freeing her lovely doves. I couldn’t wait to run my hands over them, feel them, suckle on them, smell them and finally bury my face around them.
Slowly, I took the right one and took as much of it as I could inside my mouth. I heard the softest of moans escape her open mouth. I treaded with caution moving the nipple around my mouth and letting its warmth cover her breast. I sucked on her nipple, played around with it in my mouth and let its softness take complete hold of me.
I repeated the same things with the left one. Because the twins both need attention, love and care. You can’t simply take up one and then leave the other one hanging there.
I rubbed her belly and approached her belly button. I circled it with my tongue. The belly button is an especially erogenous zone with hundreds of nerve endings and stimulating the area in the right way means you can take her to the pinnacle of pleasure.
I spent a few minutes caressing her building up anticipation for what was to come next. I got her to remove her skirt to reveal her red lace panties. At this juncture, she was completely naked except for her red thong. To heighten the anticipation, I started by kissing her thighs first, licking and working up my way to her panties. I kissed her pussy covered by the thong. I raised her thighs a bit and asked her to reveal her butts. I kissed the back of her thighs and the round of her butts.
I slowly removed her thong. “Time for desert,” I quipped.
I spent a few seconds gazing down at her pussy. I studied the lines, the curves, and her folds. I took in a deep breath inhaling her scent. I kissed her pussy, parted the lips slowly and placed my wet tongue on it. Her rose colored flesh was what I saw and each time I licked her she moaned. I quickened my pace, slithering my tongue in and out. The warmth from her pussy kept picking up. It had become too hot and was leaking her pussy juice.
I took some time to cool off.