Date: Fri, 2 Apr 2010 04:47:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: sjtw69 <sjtw69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Hollie - Chapter 2

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.