It’s been three hours, four minutes and twenty seconds after the priest declared us man and wife. Stan’s kiss still lingered on my lips and butterflies ran around in my stomach. I was like a kid waiting for her first Christmas dress, I wondered if his Penis would be long, fat, thick or slim. I wanted the night to be perfect, he was going to be my first even though I always imagined I was not his. Stanley was Delta-born and had a swell attitude, ladies swooned at his smile and I feared at first that he was touching them in places I would have wanted to be the one. Some days his apartment would be filled, ladies coming around to do whatever it is he wanted in that moment. Weekends were particularly crazy, I hardly had Stanley all to myself.

I saw this as a good thing, after all Christians should always have a way to avoid premarital sex. So we had this silent agreement that he could play with the ladies and catch his fun so long as he was going to be my man when the other girls went to wherever they came from. Don’t judge me, Stan was the perfect guy indeed. He had plans to marry as soon as he got a promotion, he had a flat on the Island, his own car and savings. I am the undemanding type of girl, I don’t ask too much of life and as much as I wanted to save my body for marriage I wanted a sex crazy husband and Stan fit all my profile.

He was on the other side of the door, I could hear him bid the last visitors good night. He walked into the room and sat on the other side of the bed, his back was turned and he made no attempt to initiate sex. I crawl on the bed to hold his big arms, gently exposing my full cleavage to him. If he turned a bit, he would see I had nothing but my bra and a G-string on. My fantasies had always been about lingerie and sucking of my big breasts, I never envisaged what happened to me. It was obvious Stan was not himself, I kissed his arms, I made every move to get him into bed.

Was I unattractive? Did he have other plans with his old girlfriends? Why was I too weak to tell him I wanted him and why was he giving me this attitude? The next day was Sunday but we were “on the moon”. I did everything right, “meal in bed, straps and bra hooks off”
I didn’t bother on preamble when I saw him smile a bit, I straddled him making sure he could feel my naked pussy rub against him. I found his lips before he could lose interest. My nipples grazed his bare chest while I gently slid off his boxers and could feel his length under me.

We kissed some more and his breathe became deeper and I could hear his husky voice as he made to say something, my vagina was dripping wet all over his dick but it just twitched a bit. I peeped down to see what was going on, tried my hands on it moving up and down his shaft but it remained limp…

I looked at Stan and he lay there quietly staring at me, he saw the questions all over my face. I rolled over naked, stared at the ceiling and begin to cry. I felt his sincere remorse and trembles as he told me he was totally impotent and he chose me because he knew I was the only girl he had met that allowed him a relationship without fear and he did not want to lose me. He chose me! I did not know what to feel, Love had got me so far, blind love had driven me into a mysterious porthole. I chose to be the strong docile woman, I have resigned to private clinic sessions and absurd sex positions necessary for a dick that only twitches.

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