John Wilson

The timid bride

CHAPTER ONE

"What is it? What is it?" cried Cindy Hanger excitedly as her husband climbed into his car in the driveway.

"It's a surprise," he said. "Not to be opened until I turn the corner. It has to do with what we spoke about last night…" And with that, shut the door to his car.

"I can't wait," she cried, shaking the brown parcel from side to side. "What's in it?"

The car pulled back and out of the driveway. Cindy waved from the front porch as she watched the red tail lamps disappear up the street in the early morning fog that enveloped Dover City that damp February Tuesday. "Goodbye, darling," she cried after her- new husband.

"Goodbye… goodbye… goodbye…" she murmured on her way off the porch and back inside the small but cozy two-storey house into which she and her new husband had moved the month before. Why be so dramatic? After all, he's going to be back this afternoon… He's only going to work… She stopped in front of the hallway mirror and shook the shoe-box sized package which she held in both hands. Then she glanced at herself instead of the package.

The silky blue house coat suited her well, giving her pink-white baby skin a radiant glow. She had a porcelain complexion, and even without the benefit of morning makeup, her cheeks were a rosy hue of crimson on a background of snow white. Her thick, mauve lips outlined a large, pretty clown red mouth, and her long, slender jaw line, rising upwards on her proud, big-eyed face, was undeniably sexy. She gave herself a saucy enough smile, and then her eyes caressed tenderly downwards in the silver glass, accepting the voluptuous shape that hid there in front of her under the simple blue housecoat.

"My! Oh my! I certainly am the vain one this morning!" she told herself with a sharp smile full of bright white teeth. She shook a finger at herself, saying softly, "Tetch, tetch…"

Cindy Hanger pulled away from the mirror the way a piece of metal comes undone from a magnet, quickly and with a kind of attraction still holding her to it, as if she were breaking free of some indomitable force. In the living room, she sank into the overstuffed downy soft sofa on the arm of which still rested her morning coffee.

"Now," she said aloud, taking a sip of the tepid light brown mixture of cream, coffee, and sugar, "let's see what we shall see!"

She shook the package which she'd rested in her lap from side to side. There was a slight bumping sensation, as if something solid on the inside bounced around between the sides of the box. She thought about what Larry had said: "It has to do with what we spoke about last night…"

Whatever could he mean? We spoke about so many things..! She began unwrapping the brown paper and soon revealed that it was indeed a shoebox. Shoes? We didn't speak about shoes… We were going to bed… and we talked about books and… and about sex… and-Just then she pulled the lid off the box and saw that it contained, among other things, a note from her new husband, a sheath of rolled magazines, and an unmarked jar of some sort of paste or grease. Also, there was a plain white second box, rectangular and heavy, in the center of the wrapped magazines.

First she read the note:

Darling, I'm quite sure that you'll be shocked and a little hurt perhaps that I've gone so far as to get you these things. But my inclinations usually turn out to be right. Don't be mad at me. Try these things out at your leisure. We don't even have to talk about them if you don't want to. I just have an idea that you might enjoy yourself a little more, that's all. And if you enjoy yourself a little more, then so will I. It's a long life that we intend to live together, and the better we are at some of the basics, the better we'll be at everything else…

All my love,

Larry

Even before the magazines unfolded in her hands, blossoming like some rare breed of exotically blooming flower, Cindy Hanger's childlike face filled with a bright red blush. There were three folios, the first of which displayed on the front cover a colorful slick photo of a young woman holding her breasts, pointing them upwards, her mouth aiming downwards, her tongue extended trying to reach the excited, reddened tips of her own nipples.

"Gawd!" shrieked Cindy, averting her eyes and looking away from the, cover of the magazine which she held in her hands. It was as if she expected to be punished at that very minute, just for looking at the cover of the magazine.

She looked around the living room and then back at the second magazine. On the cover of that one a young black man stood nakedly at the side of a pretty, older white woman, his cock rubbing against the white woman's thighs. "Sheeze," groaned Cindy, trying not to look at the distended, blood engorged bluish cap of the black man's penis as she quickly shuffled the magazines, "what does Larry think he's trying to get me to do!?! These are awful… obscene… disgusting…!"

And then she sneaked a look at the last magazine cover, and before she could close her eyes on that one, her brain had registered the debauching pose of a man approaching a young girl from the rear, his cock stiff as a fence post, the head of it thick and swollen with arousal, and the girl's rear-end vulnerable as a piece of freshly cracked-open fruit! "Oh, Gawd, damn, Larry…" she hissed aloud, offended that he would even think of her in such terms. "This is awful!"

She set the magazines, the shoe-box and the other things it contained aside and sat for a moment fuming, nervously sipping her coffee, trying to keep from thinking about what her husband intended her to do with such magazines as these. She drew a deep breath and tried to relax. Then her curiosity got the best of her and she picked up the rectangular box which had been inside the rolled magazines.

It was a plain unmarked tubular affair, and it seemed to contain something heavy and solid. She undid one end of the box and pulled out the big, strangely shaped plastic thing which was inside. It looked to Cindy Hanger's innocent untrained eyes like a water pic. "What on earth…" she hissed at the thing, and discovering a button at the back of the handled bullet-shaped apparatus, flicked it on. It shook in her hand, softly whirring. Then it dawned on the young wife what she held in her palm.

"Oh, Gawd… Lar-ry!" she hissed at the thing and turned it off. One quick glance at the jar of paste and she understood that it was clearly some sort of new-f angled lubricant… and she also understood that he'd purchased all of these things in order to get her to "loosen up", as he'd put it the previous night, in order to get her to think differently about things having to do with SEX.

She quickly gathered the magazines, the note, the vibrator and the lubricant back into the shoe box. She stuffed the wrapper into the box, too, and tried to deny to herself as she headed upstairs with the opened parcel that she'd been in any way excited by the color photos or by the idea of having and owning her own plastic, battery-operated power dildo. It was, as far as she was concerned-all of this either here nor there. Sex was for when one made love, not for pleasure, and no matter how lewd a display Larry tried to make with the pictures and the tools, she would not be the kind of young housewife who toyed and played with her own body and flesh as if it were just so much clay for fun!

Not me!

Never!

Yet even as she put away the box, sliding it with her tiny white foot under the big unmade double bed, she had a kind of inkling that this would not be the last time she'd be in touch with the box that contained her new husband's strange gift.

"I'll make the bed later," she hissed on her way from the bedroom, flicking off the lights. "Boy, does he have a lot of nerve!" Trying to stay angry, she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

But later in the day, standing in front of the kitchen sink wearing only a pair of cotton white shorts and a blouse, her otherwise naked thighs were coated with goose bumps as she attempted to put out of her mind flashes of the color photos from the magazines. It was everything she could do to finish the dishes before dashing upstairs, pulling out the shoe box of goodies, and sitting thumbing through the pages of the forbidden folios.

"He must be crazy… if he thinks I'm gonna do something like that!" she exclaimed out loud as her eyes distended upon glancing at a young woman on hands and knees hovering over a studly young man on his back, his cock in her hands, the thickened blood-engorged cap pressing into her lips. "That thing could choke a horse!"

Quickly, she flipped the page and discovered yet another obscene scene, one that involved two women and a young man. One of the women had cherry red hair and was probably forty years old. She was crouched over a man who was on his back. Her legs were widespread and her loins hung downwards on either side of his face in such a manner that her cunt lips were spread at the opening of his mouth. His tongue was pressed upwards into the splayed and glistening wet flesh of her hungrily widespread pussy! The other woman sat on her haunches over the man's groin. She had a glazed look in her eyes and she was reaching out and supporting and balancing herself over the man's cock and balls by holding onto the first, red-headed woman's breasts and shoulders. This second woman's cunt was penetrated by the man's upwardly jutting hardened cock. It was clear from the photo that his hips were rising, that the stiffened hardness was going further and further up into the belly of the young woman!

"Oh, Jeeze!" hissed Cindy Hanger, hardly able to tolerate the spectacle of so lewd and bizarre an embrace for more than a few seconds. She quickly shut the magazine and pondered out loud: "What should I do with these things? He must be nuts if he thinks I'm gonna get into one of these swinger scenes or anything like it!"

Her eyes caught sight of the power dildo on the floor of the shoe-box. She wondered if she would dare to try it out. She picked it up off the floor and held it in her hand, considering the thing. Then an idea flashed through her mind.

She quickly picked up the bedside phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. "Hullo, Angela? Angela, I want you to come over here. This is a lady's emergency. I need you here right away. Don't ask questions. I'm upstairs… Good. Thanks." She hung up. "Angela knows about such things," she mumbled aloud. "She'll be able to tell me for sure…"

* * *

Twenty minutes later there was a skid of brakes and the sound of a car door opening. Cindy looked out from the bedroom window, and upon seeing that it was her girlfriend Angela, wearing tight white levies and a cotton t-shirt, climbing away from the car up the driveway toward the house, she rushed downstairs to meet her.

At the front door, she remarked offhandedly to Angela, "Do you never wear a brassiere, Angela?"

The other blonde stroked her long, wavy hair back behind her head and smiled, "Cindy, don't you know that it doesn't matter if you wear a brassiere or not? Really, darling, I don't think that's why you called me over here."

"N-No," stammered Cindy, "it's not. I've called you here about a little gift that my husband gave me. I figured you'd know if I should use it or not."

"I'm not very big on kitchen utensils," said Angela with a kind of innocent dumbness coming into her eyes. "Is it something for the kitchen? Because if it is, well, I just never knew much about that kind of thing and-"

"No," said Cindy impatiently, "it's not for the kitchen. Would that it were, in fact!" She started up the stairs. "Come on, follow me."

On the way to the bedroom, Cindy considered that her friendship with Angela Heet went back a long ways. She'd met Angela in eighth grade and they'd spent a lot of time that year and the one after talking about boys and what you could and couldn't do with them. Then Angela started going steady every other month with a new fellow, and Cindy and she fell apart. Of course, it was always Angela who had the most fun, going to parties, meeting people, parking, carrying on and telling the best stories. In Senior Year they renewed their friendship a bit, but it wasn't quite the same. For one thing, Angela Heet had been having intercourse with just whomsoever she pleased, whenever it pleased her, and that was not something that Cynthia Hanger cared to do. Well, not that she didn't care to do that, but that she couldn't bring herself to do that! They certainly were the odd couple, when you got right down to it, and there really was no accounting for their long time friendship except in the ironic ways that people get to know each other in spite of what appears to be their basic differences.

Cindy flung open the bedroom door. Spread across the massive bed were the items that Larry had purchased-the magazines, the dildo and the grease.

"Say, Cindy Hanger! You're not trying to seduce me, are you?" asked Angela, her big eyes widening some as she regarded the strange display.

"Angela, this is serious," said Cindy, her voice cracking a bit with nervousness.

"That's what I got for a present this morning. From my new husband!"

"Larry gave you all of this?" said Angela, stepping forward and flipping through the pages of one of the magazines, and then with one finger stroking lightly across the power dildo, as if to define it by her feathery touch. "What's he up to?"

"We're not getting on that well in one department…"

"Let me try and guess which one," said Angela, her eyes bright and her face an expression of cheerfulness. "Oh me oh my… So you called up of Angela, your friendly sex counselor, is that it?"

"Well, not exactly," said Cindy, sitting on the side of the bed and crossing her long, smooth pink-white thighs. Her shorts rode up on her hips and her buttocks could be seen at the edges of her thighs, slightly peeking out.

Angela's eyes dilated imperceptibly as she watched the inhibited young bride explaining her situation. She liked listening to other people describe their sex problems and achievements, and this in particular was a rare treat. For she'd known Cindy for a long, long time, and to hear about such things as this from someone who one knew was indeed interesting.

Gesturing to the implements and the magazines and the lubricant every now and then, Cindy went on and on telling about how she had never had oral sex with any man, about how she even regretted petting in high school, about how she'd married Larry Hanger without so much as a second thought about sex, and about how she'd expected that things would eventually work out… one way or another.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," said Angela, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation of something she expected the other woman to say. "So what can I do for you?" she finally asked bluntly and outright.

"You-You-You can show me how to use these things!"

"What? You're kidding of course!"

"No Angela, I'm not! You're experienced. You're not inhibited. I'll even pay you!" Cindy blurted. "I don't want to be a prude. And I don't have time to go to a sex-workshop. And I have lots of inhibitions. I figured that if I saw you doing it… well… then-"

"Not on your life," said Angela. "You must think I'm some kind of-some kind of-I don't know what!"

"No, I don't. But you are a go-go dancer… and I just thought you were a friend who might show me a little, that's all. Just show me what it's like is all."

Angela shook her head and paced to the bedroom window, her rear end swinging tightly left and right. Cindy watched the other girl and then said, "Please? I won't tell anyone. I promise."

For a moment Angela Heet would not turn around. Then, slowly but surely, a big wide grin on her thick, moist lips, she turned slowly back and nodded. "Alright,

I'll do it!"

"Oh, say, I really appreciate it," said Cindy. "Really Angela, I won't forget this." She quickly cleared the bed of the magazines and the other items and sat down in a chair alongside. "Okay, I've got this stuff out of the way. If there's anything you need, just tell me, and I'll get it."

"Sure," said Angela, blushing a little and then sitting down on the side of the bed so as to take off her shoes. "First thing you do is get naked."

"Right," said Cindy. "That much I figured for sure."

"Go on," said Angela, "Take off your clothes!"

"I, ah… I don't wanna."

"You gotta be kidding! You want me to lay down here, demonstrate how to turn yourself on, and you don't wanna do it yourself? Come on, I never-"

"Please? It just won't do me any good to get naked right now with you, Angela. What I need is to see you do it. Then I'll know how to do it myself later!"

"Alright, alright," groaned the other girl, her patience wearing thin. She quickly pulled off her t-shirt, revealing her large, pendulous breasts. The mushroom colored caps were big and puffed slightly, and in the centers were large, cherry red nipples sticking out at attention like little soldiers. Her belly was tanned, lean, smooth and supple. She stood up and tugged at her tight white levies, rolling them down over her hips.

"You're not wearing any underwear!" exclaimed Cindy upon seeing the other woman's naked, bristling sandy pubic triangle.

"I never do," said Angela softly. She sat down on the side of the bed again and wriggled free of her jeans. Her long slender thighs came into view, and then her cute bony knees and her shapely slender calves. As she leaned down to get the pants off of her ankles, her voluptuous breasts touched upon the tops of her legs, and her eyes dilated with an excitement that she did not mention.

For truth to tell, Angela Heet rather enjoyed the idea of demonstrating in the buff some of her personal techniques for getting aroused. After all, how often did one really have the chance to do such things, to show a long time friend something so personal or intimate as this.

She sat naked looking for a moment at Cindy. "You know," she said, "it would help a lot if you'd just undress. I mean, I'd feel a little more like I wasn't on the spot. You know what I mean?"

"Oh, well, I don't know," said Cindy. "I never undressed in front of a woman before and-"

"I'm not going to molest you or anything. I'm going to lay here and show you what I do to get myself excited, that's all. But in the meantime, I think it would be nice if you were naked too."

"Oh, alright," said Cindy nervously, standing up and removing her blouse. "I don't like this. I didn't ask you over here so that I could get naked, too, you know. I just wanted to see what kind of things you do to get excited so that I could get along better with my husband…" She removed the big halter brassiere that held her large, comely breasts upwards, and the two hefty pillows of soft flesh came pouring outwards, hanging down softly on her chest. The nipples were jutting out like a couple of rubber pencil erasers, and the big mushroom brown caps were large and slightly raised with a secret erotic thrill of excitement. Although she was prudish and somewhat frightened of things having to do with sex, Cindy's body responded on occasion before her mind could think about what to do to stop it!

"The shorts too," said Angela, admiring her friend's voluptuous body. "You have a nice figure," she added. "I never realized."

"That's what Larry says, too," said Cindy, blushing like a red, red beet. Her shoulders, smooth and rounded, her breasts, hanging low as she reached down to pull her shorts off, and her belly, all had the prickly bright crimson look of a fresh hot blush. She shook her hips left and right and shimmied out of the shorts. That left her wearing only her panties.

"Them, too," said Angela. "Then I'll start."

Cindy smiled nervously and pulled her panties down off of her hips. She rolled them down over her long smooth pink-white thighs and down over her knees and off of her feet one at a time. She sat down with her hands in her lap like a young girl at a lecture, her naked breasts softly shimmering, her nipples excited and pointy, her smooth thighs covered with in voluntary goose bumps. Her smooth white pelvis gleamed a bright, toothy white above a triangle of blonde pubic hair.

"I don't know why you never learned to do this on your own," commenced Angela, her eyes wide and protuberant as she climbed onto her back on the bed, spreading her naked loins and sliding one hand down between her thighs. "It's so simple-even a kid can do it."

"Well, I just never thought it was okay to do it, that's all." Cindy's eyes were glued, to the way Angela stroked softly with three fingers along the top of her legs, every now and then dipping in over the smoothness of the upraised and puckered lips of her vagina. "You really know what you're doing," she murmured upon seeing the other girl's fingers disappear momentarily into the narrow wet confines of her liquid wet vagina. "You know just how to get in there."

"Of course," sighed Angela, her other hand sliding gracefully up along the top of her left breast, slowly picking out and plucking upwards one bright red nipple, as if to make it grow better in the way a gardener might hoe the soil around a new tulip. "You have to concentrate to do this right," said Angela, her voice beginning to