A Virgin Bride (And Groom)

I got married between graduation from college and beginning law school.  I married my best friend's sister.  She and I had always had a thing for each other, and discovered that we were in love as I neared the end of college.  We were each pretty innocent with the opposite sex.  For her, I think it was simply that she was a "good girl."  For me, although I couldn't name it or describe it then, it was that I was afraid.  Afraid of failing to be able to "do it."  That's right.  We were both virgins when we got married.

On our wedding night, neither of us knew what to do.  My new bride, who I was a few years older than, rightly, expected me to know what to do.  Me, being the guy, and older, thought I ought to know what to do.  But the reality was, that I didn't, and so we didn't fuck the first night of our marriage.  Instead, I ended up cumming all over her, but never getting inside of her.  She was nice about it and all, but I could tell that first night she was confused about why we didn't "do it" on our wedding night.  I tried to pretend like it was okay, but inside, I was devastated.  I'd feared my inability to "perform" all along, never admitted to anyone that I was a virgin, and when I failed to perform in the clutch, I cinched it in my own mind - I couldn't "do it."  The rest of the Honeymoon wasn't any different.  We didn't "do it" the entire Honeymoon. 

I know that what I'm about to admit may be difficult to believe, but although we loved each other, and stayed together for a long time before she finally, one day, announced that she was leaving me for another guy - or, I should say, simply, a man - we never actually consummated our marriage.  I satisfied her to some extent, because I was good at giving oral, but I knew it was never really enough.  She wanted a man.  And she wasn't comfortable reciprocating with me.  So, I never was on the receiving end of a blow job.  Instead, I ended up cumming on her when we humped because I never could get it in her.  Our marriage fizzled to an end, just like my performance in bed, and we never discussed it.

When my first wife left me, I was devastated.  It wasn't just that the woman I loved left me for another man.  I knew why it really happened.  I simply wasn't man enough.  She didn't leave me for another man.  She left me for a man.  If I had been one, she wouldn't have left me for a man who could please her like a woman needs, and deserves, to be pleased.  By then, I was a full-fledged adult, and I was still a fucking virgin!  By the time she left me, I'm quite certain she wasn't one.  We were married for six years!  I was twenty-eight years old!  I worried that I would never have intercourse with a woman.  And you can imagine how fearful I was of dating new women - women who weren't childhood friends who knew and liked me - women I had to impress - and worrying how I would prove to these new women that I couldn't fuck them.  And they'd talk to other women around town about it.  Fuck!  I was a mess!

And remember what I've mentioned in an earlier post - I was a guy's guy.  I played sports.  I was competitive.  I was a trial attorney, and a very formidable one.  Other attorneys liked me and respected my tough, competitive fire in the courtroom.  But I'd never fucked a woman.  Can you imagine?  Hanging out with guys in locker rooms, always talking about fucking this girl, or that girl?  You know?  How guys talk?  And always lying about my own exploits?  As in, I had none.  It was tough.  I felt like Charlie Brown.  I wanted to ask girls out.  But I was afraid if I did, and they said yes, I'd only prove how worthless I was, rather than simply have them suspect it.  And so I spent a lot of time alone after my first marriage.  And guess what I did?  Living alone for the first time as an adult, with no one to see what I did in the privacy of my own home?  Um hmm.

And I enjoyed it.  But I still felt like it was wrong.  By now, I completely understood that a guy wearing women's underwear wasn't really a man.  I didn't need my mother to beat me to make me understand.  Add in that my wife just left me for a man, and that I knew I'd never fucked a woman.  I was a quiet mess.  Quiet because I could never, ever, admit the truth.  But, things improve.  Next post.  Stay tuned.