Hollie

Hollie by Stephanie Silver (sjtw69@yahoo.com)

Chapter Two -- Proposal and Honeymoon

Is a five-month courtship really that bad? Wouldn't you say that you can get to know someone well enough in five months to know that you want to spend the rest of your life with them?

Okay, what if it was just for the next four and a half years? I mean, not like you would propose saying, "Would you marry me? It'll just be for four and a half years and then we'll get divorced." But most marriages end in divorce, so... maybe we should just start going into them with the idea of making them temporary. Then, rather than say, "I want a divorce" with all the necessary crying and boohooing and hurt feelings and finger-pointing and dividing of finances and lawyers, you could just say, "I'm sorry, I just don't feel like renewing your contract."

I'm just saying...

Yes, right! A five-month courtship. That seemed long enough. I was ready to pop the question. I was even going so far as to think about the cleverest way to do it.

Okay, see, here's what I had. I had this little jewelry box -- I don't remember how I got it. I was going to wrap it up in five or six other boxes, each box progressively bigger than the last. Or smaller, depending on if you're wrapping or unwrapping. In the final box, the jewelry box, I'd put a piece of paper in place of the ring. On the paper would be a poem in which I'd propose. I was even working on the words for the poem:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue...

I don't know. I figured I'd come up with something eventually.

Now, I knew, in a way that you know without really wanting to know because if you actually knew then you'd know something you'd rather not know, that Hollie was dating other guys. Maybe it was because she probably told me. Not so much, "Cammie, I'm dating other guys," as just mentioning them. But, when you don't want to know something, it doesn't much matter how they say it, you aren't going to hear it.

But I wasn't too worried about that. I saw Hollie at church. What could she possibly be doing with those other guys? Surely nothing like what she did with me. I was pretty sure I had the "inside track" with her. I mean, I was the one licking her pussy and kissing her butt each weekend. It was my dick she was sucking. I mean, my gosh, we were practically acting like married people already. I just wanted to make it official.

So, one night... Hollie was... I'll tell you what she was doing. She was lying on the other side of the couch, breathing heavily. Her chest, and therefore her magnificent breasts, were heaving. Not heaving in the way some people say heaving when they mean to move in a sexily suggestive way -- "Her magnificent breasts heaved against the thin fabric of her bikini" -- although Hollie's breasts were definitely doing that too, so maybe it's still correct. But, ignoring sexily suggestive movements for just a moment, I mean that she was breathing heavily, and so her breasts, which were perched, of course, on her chest, were also moving up and down. And, well, it just looked so sexy. She looked so sexy.

And she smiled at me. And you know how that smile affected me. Oh, and her belly button. (~sigh~) If ever there comes a time when a girl's butt stops being my favorite female body part on her, I'm sure belly buttons will take their place. So her belly button, an inny, was right there, a'winkin' suggestively at me.

To say nothing of the rest of her, gloriously displayed on the couch for my personal enjoyment.

And all the sudden the words were coming out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Will you marry me?"

No box. No poem. No bended knee.

No answer.

The smile... it wasn't gone. It was just... different. Amused?

"Well that was a pretty stupid thing to do," I thought.

"On one condition," she said finally, after apparently assessing my worthiness as a husband and finding me adequate.

"What?"

I meant what was the condition, not what like what kind of an answer was that?

"I still get to date other guys," she said.

"What?"

This time I meant what like what kind of an answer was that?

"I get to date other guys," she repeated.

As I was trying to sort that out, Hollie, whose chest had by now quit heaving, spun around on the couch and was now on the verge of wrapping her lips around my dick. It's incredibly hard to think under those conditions.

Plus interrupting one of Hollie's superb blow jobs to discuss dating while married made no sense either, so I decided to let her finish before continuing the subject.

I think it's the way she looks at you while she has your dick in her mouth. Maybe it's her trademark lavender lipstick. Except that had come off long ago during the evening's activities. Maybe her lips are just a natural lavender shade and succulent when she has them wrapped around a man's dick. All I know is that saliva string she somehow formed between the tip of my dick and her lips made me forget just what it was we were discussing.

And afterward, she climbed on top of me, her lovely, sexy, naked body pressing against me, and kissed me hungrily. I could almost taste my dick still.

"Do you want to have sex with me?" she asked.

Well, I sort of thought that's what we'd been doing, but judging from context, I assumed she meant the kind of sex where I put my penis into her vagina. Of course I wanted to do that. I dreamed of fucking Hollie. I masturbated while I dreamed of fucking her. I'm pretty sure that's why I was asking her to marry me, in fact, so that I could fuck her legally and morally. Or at least ethically; I'm not sure what the legal ramifications there were.

Her smile was back. She was naked, perched sexily atop me, my saliva-coated erection arching upward trying to make contact with her naked crotch. I was sure she was asking me if I wanted to screw her right then. It would postpone the marriage discussion, of course, but I was prepared to make that sacrifice. "Yes."

"Marry me," she said, and slid forward slightly, away from my waiting dick.

Well now that's where I'd been earlier, before the blow job. I wanted to marry her so I could fuck her. If Hollie hadn't been the first woman I'd ever proposed to, I might have rolled my eyes and said something about how confusing women can be. Instead I said, "Okay."

"But I get to date other guys," she reminded me.

"What?"

"If you want to have sex with me, you have to marry me," she explained. "But I still get to date other guys."

That didn't sound like a normal marriage to me, but I didn't really know. Maybe lots of marriages involved one partner who continued to date. Maybe. Rationalization, as I said, is a wonderful thing. The one thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to stick my dick in Hollie's pussy. If agreeing to her dating requirement was all it took, it would be worth it.

"Okay."

With school for me starting the last week in September, that left us a little less than two months to arrange a wedding, find a place to live, get married, go on a honeymoon, and come back.

Piece of cake.

Okay, not really. Do you know what the telephone company wants before they'll give you a phone and service? And then there was the water, gas and electricity. So I was busy. Calling here, going there, doing this, doing that. Busy.

So busy I hardly had time to get Hollie to take off her clothes for me once a week and let me eat her pussy while she sucked my dick.

Except we never actually did it that way: doing each other at the same time. We didn't do it that way until we were legally and lawfully wedded. Not that there would have been anything wrong with doing it that way. At least nothing worse than any of the other sins we were already committing. We just never thought of doing it that way. I never thought of it. And Hollie never suggested it.

And in the back of my mind was that deal we had made: I was engaged; Hollie was still dating. Was that right?

So one day I called to see if she would go to a family barbecue with me, and when she answered she was laughing. Not at me, but at something going on in the background where she was at. And, yes, I know I heard a man's voice say, "Who's on the phone, Hollie?" And that was followed by an instruction to be quiet and some more giggling that didn't seem to fit the nature of our phone conversation.

Okay, so... my fiancée was with someone else. I mean, I didn't know that for sure. Maybe it was her brother. Only, as far as I knew, she didn't have a brother. Or a father. or an uncle. Alright, I didn't want to think about it too much. I was still getting a fuck out of the deal. That's "a fuck" not "the fuck."

We found a nice apartment at a nice price in a nice neighborhood. The price was nice, at any rate. The roof only leaked when it rained, and the owner assured us they would get it fixed as soon as possible. And as long as it wasn't really hot or cold outside, the temperature was quite comfortable. And the whole time we lived there, there was only one shooting, and that wasn't even in our building.

The wedding reception ended up being the easiest of all. We skipped it. It turned out my father was quite serious when he said that if we eloped he'd pay us the difference. We didn't elope, but Hollie's guest list was fairly small. With no real extended family to consider, it consisted of her mother, Lydia, and a handful of Lydia's friends. There were only a few people from our church congregation that we felt we wanted to invite. I had family and neighbors that I could invite, but only a small group that I actually had to invite, so, in the end, we decided to make it a very small wedding with no reception. My father paid for our honeymoon.

You're only as poor as you want to be.

My family, of course, was disappointed that I wasn't having the traditional temple wedding. But they got over it. Eventually. It could always be worse. At least I was getting married to a woman. It's not like I was wearing dresses and having sex with guys.

Oops!

Oh... getting married. Is there any bigger life-changing event that, when it actually happens, seems so anticlimactic? First of all, the minister forgot to have us kiss. We were just married. "Cameron, do you?" and "Hollie, do you?" and then, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

And that was it. And then Hollie went home with her mother and I went home with my parents. And I thought letting my wife date other guys seemed strange.

A few hours later we were back together and the whole marriage thing actually got started.

Six hours after that we were checking in at Jenny Lake Lodge in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Actually it's in Moose, Wyoming, but...

Mister and Mrs. Dahl. Legally. Right there in the lodge registration book.

Once we locked ourselves in our room, Hollie changed into an all-black lace outfit of stockings, garter, panties and bustier. Let me just say that the sex was as incredible as her outfit.

Okay, let me say more than that. We started off doing what we'd done before, kissing, French-kissing, making out, touching each other in all the sexual places, and slowly getting Hollie out of her clothes. Which wasn't as easy as it sounds. Up till then I'd only had practice getting her out of a string bikini. And, face it, a string bikini isn't the most complicated piece of clothing there is.

With the bustier, I wasn't even sure where to start. I tried tugging it down, but it was too tight and too rigid for that. There seemed to be multiple snaps in the back, and eventually I figured out I had to undo each one if I was going to see my new bride naked. Well, if it had to be done, I was prepared to make that sacrifice as well.

And garters!? What's the deal there? Okay, not real hard to figure out, but... straps here and straps there, and everything hooked together. So sexy, but...

Ultimately, the stockings, garter and bustier all stayed on, and only her panties came off. Of course I'd seen Hollie's pussy before, but never from the angle of her sprawled on her back, legs spread, waiting for me to put myself inside her. Missionary position.

I knew where it was supposed to go. Theoretically. But knowing theoretically and knowing for real are two different things. I put my erection into her slit in what seemed like the most likely place and pushed forward. And it went somewhere. And it felt incredible. And I started fucking.

"It's not in me," she said softly and kindly.

But, uh, it was too late. I was cumming.

We tried again the next morning. Just sleeping with and waking up next to a half-naked woman was almost as exciting as not-quite actually fucking her the night before. I mean, I wanted to get the fucking part right. But I wasn't in a hurry, if you know what I mean. We'd get there eventually, I was sure.

So the next morning we enjoyed an impromptu sex education class where Hollie showed me, in detail, what she had, and very patiently explained how sex was supposed to be done.

"Oh, of course, it's supposed to go inside you right there. I get it now."

No, I didn't say that. But I could have.

And so, before breakfast, we tried again. And this time, a little more controlled and a little more patient, I got it right. Hollie guided me, helping me find the exact place, and... suddenly... "Yeah, that's where it goes, Cammie."

Well now as good as it felt the night before to almost-fuck her, actually fucking her felt ten times better. Two times better. Soft, slippery, but tight. Like her mouth, but... different. Like a hand job, but... better.

By the time we got to breakfast, I had finally achieved the pinnacle of manhood by putting my seed in a woman's vagina.

For three days there was so much to learn. We ate, and screwed, and then talked, and screwed, and then watched TV and screwed, and then slept and screwed. And then the next day we did it all again. Only with a little less screwing `cause, frankly, I was running out of cum, and Hollie was running out of lubrication. The unadvertised downside of unrestricted sex.

I never imagined sex could be so much fun. I mean, I imagined it, but, really, how often does reality live up to what you imagine? And even surpass it, in this case. Sex with Hollie was just incredible. I thought I knew how to do it. I did. But compared to my new bride, I was a novice. The things she taught me during those three days at Jenny Lake! I just never imagined.

"Really? You can actually do it that way?"

We started with missionary position. I think we did that the second time too. Second time meaning the time just before breakfast when we actually got it right. Then we got creative. Doggy style. Sideways. Girl on top. Even reverse cowgirl. Of course I didn't know all these positions had names at the time. I was just doing whatever Hollie suggested. Girl on top was my personal favorite because I liked playing with Hollie's boobs. Although, being an assman, there was a lot to say for reverse cowgirl and doggy style.

After three days, we moved in to our tiny love nest and prepared to spend the rest of our lives together in wedded bliss.

With my wife dating other men on the side.