The Bride Falls From Innocence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
About the wedding night. Clean, but with mature undercurrents, thus the "R". Very short. In some ways realistic, in some not.

Submitted: August 09, 2012

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Submitted: August 09, 2012




Suddenly, they were alone.

She’d wanted this all day, but now that she had it, she was scared. He looked at her nervously, and she could tell he was a little scared too. She managed a small, shaky smile. That seemed to comfort him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. She slipped her arms around his neck and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. He smiled at her and kissed her softly. She undid her arms from his neck and wove them underneath his arms, around his torso, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I went to a wedding today,” he murmured in her ear.

She smiled. “Oh really? What was it like?”

“I don’t really remember,” he said.

She pulled back and looked at him with mock offense. He continued,

“You see, I don’t remember the details, really . . . all I remember was the bride was . . . beautiful. Beyond compare.”

She laughed. “You are silly. Bad joke,” she said with a smile.

She was relaxed now, and she was ready. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her again, unrestrained for once. She realized now how hard it had been for him, waiting to touch her until this day. She kissed him back, fervently, and her breath quickened as he touched her lip with his warm tongue. He broke away from her after a moment and began to trace her jaw with his lips, and she closed her eyes as he kissed his way down her throat, his hands grasping at her waist, then her hips. Suddenly he stopped, his forehead on her shoulder, and she could feel his heavy breathing on her collarbone. She opened her eyes in concern and touched his face as he looked her in the eye.

“I just want you to know right now, before anything . . . I love you.”

She could feel something inside her explode. She whispered back,

“I love you, too.”

He flashed an almost boyish grin and began to kiss her again. She was lost in his warmth until she detected that his caress seemed distracted. She opened her eyes and could only see his furrowed eyebrows looking down. His eyes quickly darted up and answered her questioning look.

“Umm . . . where’s the zipper?”

She giggled and kissed him on the cheek, guiding his hand to the zipper under her arm. She subconsciously balled a little of his shirt in her fist as he slowly unzipped her and they embraced again.


He never knew anything could be so tiny and soft. He touched her gently as he kissed her, afraid that if he let himself go he would break her tiny body. He smiled against her mouth as she pulled tiny fistfuls of his dress shirt. He kissed her delicate neck again and felt her skinny fingers run up his chest to his top button. He quivered slightly when her fingernail brushed his neck and she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He reluctantly dragged his fingers from the soft skin at the small of her back to clasp her hands in his. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment. He couldn’t think of words anymore, but as he breathed in her smell he sent up a wordless prayer of thanks to God for entrusting him with such a beautiful gift. He gave her a tiny kiss and lowered her gently onto the bed. He left his pants on the floor and climbed in clumsily. Even though she had warned him, it still worried him when at first she seemed in pain. But she told him to keep going, and eventually the tension left her eyes. He didn’t think about much after that, except that she was warm, and he grasped for her hand as he tumbled into blackness.


She moved along with him and watched quietly as he slipped away from her for a moment, her hand curled up in his. Soon his breathing slowed and he came back to her. He gave her a quiet, sweet kiss, the urgency gone, before rolling onto his side and drifting into sleep. She watched him a while, brushing the hair at his temples. He looked like a man in his suit, she thought, or when he ushered her through the door, his hand on the small of her back. But here, his head lolling on his shoulder, one foot hanging off the bed, he looked like a little boy, and she held his head against her naked breast until she too succumbed to warm sleep.


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