Cuckold Hubby 1

When I was young I was a fool. When my future wife to be refused full sexual
intercourse before the marriage day, I assumed this was quite normal,
respectable behaviour on her part, the natural reaction of a nice, middle
class girl true to her upbringing. Only later did I discover that Moira
wasn’t ‘respectable’ at all! At the time though I couldn’t see past the
smooth curves of her ample breasts, tightly constrained beneath her thin,
skin-hugging tops, or separate my gaze from the marvelous mounds of her
perfect, round and inviting buttocks.

Moira loved to encourage me to play with her breasts. She’d laugh at my
nervous, still almost adolescent, fumbling attempts to ‘touch up’ her tits,
but she almost always allowed my wandering hands to find their way under her
stretched woolen jumper. How I loved to feel the weight of her globes in the
palms of my hands. Touching and stroking the incredibly taught smooth nylon
of her bra cups made my stomach turn flip-flops! Even today I get a kick out
of thinking back to how my unsteady finger-tips would gradually work nearer
and nearer to the engorged, protruding firmness of her nipples. Moira liked
me to work her large and prominent nipples between my fingers, rolling them
around through the thin, silky material of the brassiere. Of course I’d get
a huge erection, but I was never allowed to relieve myself in her presence
in any way, never mind actually fuck her.

“Wait until we’re married darling, then I’ll make you happy” was her
watchword. She’d keep me pleasuring her divine, feminine orbs for ages, with
my balls getting bluer by the minute, and my pre-cum wetting my underwear,
but I never dared risk upsetting this goddess by suggesting going any
further. Every night in bed I’d wank myself silly thinking of her. Just
imagining being allowed to actually suck those huge nipples was enough to
make me cum with huge gushes of wasted spunk spurting into my hand.

The day finally came when Moira consented to marry me. I walked down the
isle with a penis like an iron rod in my trousers, thinking about getting
Moira into bed at last on the honeymoon, but fortunately I was able to
arrange my clothing so that it wasn’t too noticeable. In any case, everybody
was looking at Moira, resplendent in layers of virgin white, rather than at
me. The honeymoon first night went off reasonably well. I came too soon of
course, in fact before I’d even managed to get Moira undressed. Yes, just
sucking on those gorgeous nipples did it! Fortunately Moira took a very
understanding view of this episode. Within no time she’d got me hard again,
and before very long the marriage was successfully consummated.

What (even at the time) struck me as being – surely – rather unusual, was
that for the rest of the honeymoon I wasn’t allowed to repeat the success of
that first night. Moira kept me at arm’s length, claiming that she felt sure
it wasn’t “normal” for a husband to want to molest his wife too often, not
if he really “respected” her. Well respect Moira I certainly did. She saw to
that. Having had my first fuck of my life with her I was hooked. She was my
goddess. I was infatuated with her. I’d do anything for her. She was always
kind and sweet to me, pulling down the zipper on my trousers, reaching
inside and stroking me into a fervid state of ball-bursting desire whenever
she had me alone… only to then leave in search of a drink or a swim in the
pool. I followed her everywhere like an obedient dog, waiting on her every
whim, hypnotised by the slinky sway of her hips and gentle bounce of those
irresistible tits.

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