Lenoir

Honeymoon

The wagon ride to their new home was not far. Clarence intended for them to live in the rooms above the shop for the time being. He planned on having better accommodations eventually, but the time for that part of his manifest destiny had yet to come.

Clarence had the shop boy put away the horses and wagon and put the wedding gifts in the back room of the store.

He proceeded to carry his feather light bride up the stairs and across their threshold. Lenoir could tell that he was excited as he kicked the door closed and carried her immediately to the bedroom.

He had not lit the lamp so all she saw was a brief outline of what the rest of her new home might look like. To the left of the front door was a kitchen and dining area, a sitting room just off the foyer that looked like it had a balcony was ahead, but he took her to a hallway to the right where a few rooms had dark wood doors with thick metal hardware, closed.

Lenoir knew that women talked in hushed tones about the duties of a wife on their wedding night, but her mother had died young and no one had explained the taboo facts of life to her. It was with naive confusion that she looked hopefully at her husband from the patchwork quilt on the bed.

She could see him standing in the moonlight from the window. For a moment he just watched her with a peculiar smile. Like he was wondering something. Then he took off his suit coat and shirt and put a knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over and slipping off each of her shoes. She shivered as he pulled off her stocking and gently kissed her ankle.

"Tonight we sleep as man and wife." He said, slipping off the other stocking.

Her dress was beautiful and intricately embroidered, but rather simple in structure for the day. With little lacing to contend with he had her quickly down to her under slip. By then he had also discarded his shoes and socks and lay beside her on the bed.

Nervously she put her hand on his bare chest. He kissed her lips and neck and shoulder, rising to his knees and sliding her slip to the floor. She gasped as his kisses moved from her shoulder to her breast, her n****e suckled in his hungry mouth. Then he stood on his knees and opened the front of his pants.

"Have you ever seen a man undressed?" He asked. She shook her head that she had not. Her eyes were wide and wonderful, her lips parted in anticipation of the unknown.

She hadn't gotten a good look at his full body in the dark of the room. At first she thought it was his hand pressing between her thighs. But quickly realized that both of his hands were occupied elsewhere. She began to get nervous when the pressure against her thigh migrated to the mound between her legs, parting the lips and pausing.

He seemed to be savoring this moment, he lifted himself and looked down on her. She could just make out the shine of moonlight on his hair, the steel of his blue eyes, and that peculiar wondering again.

"You are beautiful. " He whispered as he slid inside, just a little, giving her body time to adjust. "You were made for me." And he slid slowly half way into her warm center. Her innocent gasp driving him wild. He slid to her depth and pressed just deeper, in a rhythm that alternated pressure and release.

He was heavy on top of her, and his smell filled her nose. She was shocked, and too many emotions to name at once. In the dark she had become connected to her husband. She could not have freed herself if she had wanted to. She threw back her head and accepted his crushing kisses and the scratch of his mustache on her throat.

He slid a hand under her and easily adjusted her on the bed, putting her head on the pillow. He had slipped out in the move and he grasped himself to again plunge into her. The pressure caused her to arch her back as she was thrown against his hips. Her whimper slowed him down, but he was gradually building in thrust and speed.

He had tried to ease her into the act in his way, unsure of what she knew or suspected about s*x. He didn't want to be rough, and frankly it seemed like too much effort. But everything Clarence did was with a certain efficiency and always with a plan. He planned to get his young wife pregnant as soon as possible.

With that in mind he made sure to orgasm into her three times that night. And every other night like clockwork he scheduled the energy to do it again.

In the light of dawn Lenoir had quietly redressed while her husband snored. A chest of her things had been delivered and was sitting in the corner.

Walking from the room she went slow, an unfamiliar throbbed betwixt her smooth thighs. She felt swollen, but there was no sharp pain. He had not ripped her, as some other women had been, but had gently stretched her. Bleeding was unnecessary for virgins, although a lot of people didn't seem to know that. Some women still made sure there was blood, there's or a donor's, on the marriage night sheets so her husband would concretely believe she had been a virgin, no matter if she was one or not.

Lenoir explored her unfamiliar surroundings. She did not try the other closed doors in the hall, but she went through the sitting room to the balcony. The sitting room had a fireplace with large paintings of Clarence's ancestors hanging to either side over book cases that reached half up the wall. The dusty mantel held an antique musket and an oil lamp. The walls were darkly papered with gilded crown molding and the furniture composed of a deep red velvet couch accompanied by two matching chairs. An expensive looking rug woven with geometric designs framed the room. The curtains, red like the couch but woven with gold details and held apart with gold hooks, framed the gilded french doors to the balcony. Lenoir wondered if this decor was to Clarence's tastes. It seemed expensive.

The balcony overlooked the road behind the store, which was large. It had a back door on Maple Lane, a front door on Spruce Road, and a boarding stable to one side. Maple lane was quiet at this hour. A few doors down a local shopkeeper was putting merchandise onto his porch to tempt customers inside, a school teacher scurried along the lane to get her classroom ready, a sleepy orange cat stretched and yawned on the boardwalk. It was tranquil and smelled of baking breakfast rolls from the nearby bakery.

Her stomach rumbled and she wondered what her husband might have stocked in his pantry to cook.

By the time he rolled out of bed she had breakfast mostly made and was plating fried potatoes and onions.

"Good morning Clarence. " She smiled, spooning fluffy scrambled eggs onto each of their plates. She was glad that he had woke and come to the table on his own. She wasn't sure how he would have reacted to being woken.

"Good morning wife." He grinned. Standing behind an ornately carved wooden dining chair, clothed and holding a stout black bible. "It looks like I've come just in time for morning prayers. It has been my habit to read the Bible and to say a prayer over ever meal in thanks."

Over their breakfast plates, made of thick cream colored ceramic, they bowed their heads. Clarence thanked God for his new bride and the meal she was able to deliver unto him.