The first night of our married life was not spent in the comfort of a hotel bedroom enjoying the divine sensual pleasure of exploring the many ways two bodies could interact to ascend to repeated summits of ineffable rapture. That would come later in many different guises, either together, or in bacchanalian rites of orgasmic delight with a small circle of intimate friends.
We were booked on a late evening flight from Gatwick Airport to the airport at Cilipi, a few miles from the beautiful walled city of Dubrovnik in what was then Yugoslavia, so when the wedding reception started to wind down, we changed quickly and were then taken by taxi to the main Bristol railway station to catch a train to London.
Our honeymoon hotel was on the Lapad peninsula, situated just west of the main town of Dubrovnik, and is now the place where most of the tourist hotels are situated. Over fifty years ago, when the events of this story took place, it was still largely undeveloped with extensive areas of woodland. There were several delightful beaches on its southern and western shores, some of them family-friendly, but others which were very secluded and could only be reached by walking round the coast, and where nude sunbathing was tolerated, if not entirely legal, which is one reason we had chosen the resort for our honeymoon.
The hotel, which was called somewhat unimaginatively Hotel Lapad, was a stone building dating from the late Victorian era — quite unlike modern constructions of steel and glass. Meals were taken outside under a large vine-covered canopy, romantically lit by hanging lanterns, although there was a smaller, rather less romantic indoor restaurant. Our room was on the fourth floor and, although quite small, was comfortable with a large double bed and double doors leading to a small balcony looking east over a sandy cove. There was an en-suite bathroom with a bath, but no shower, a toilet, and a novelty to Brits like us — a bidet. As our room was on a corner, the balcony was only overlooked by the balcony of the adjacent room, which we later discovered was larger with a sofa and chairs as well as the bed.
It was five in the morning when we arrived, but having gone through the necessary rituals of reception, by the time the porter ushered us into our room, we were no longer sleepy. We were hot and sweaty from travelling, and even before unpacking our suitcase, we stripped out of our clothes and kicked them into a corner of the room.
The erotic pleasure of watching my new wife Diana stepping out of her panties for the first time had the expected effect on my cock, which rapidly stood to attention. She turned towards me, and the early rays of morning sunlight lit up her pubic hair with gold, the dark cleft between her labia replete with the promise of the sweet treasure that lay concealed within. She looked straight at me with a mischievous expression and walked through the doors onto the balcony where she leaned against the mahogany rail looking out over the bay. The way she was leaning forward emphasised the luscious globes of her bottom, and even more delightfully, the lips of her pussy with their fringe of soft golden curls were perfectly framed by her succulent cheeks. It was a view which I have never grown tired of enjoying for those few wonderful moments before I part her legs and, after lubricating my throbbing shaft with her juices, slowly thrusting deep into the silken heat of her vagina.
Her seductive posture carried an unmistakable message of an invitation to fuck her for the first memorable time of our married life, so different in emotional feeling to our years of courtship. I walked the few steps until I was standing behind her, and gently parting her legs, slipped my right hand into that magic space between her thighs to fondle her inner labia, which were already swelling and wet with her arousal, and with my other hand I cupped the soft swelling of her left breast. She moaned quietly when I slid two fingers into her vagina and, reaching down, began to rub and pinch her clitoris.
“Oh, my lover,” she sighed, “plunge your gorgeous cock into my cunt and fuck me here in the open air. I feel so horny I don’t care if someone sees us, being watched is so hot.”
The kinky side of my wife was something we had had little opportunity to explore up till then, but as events unfolded over the next few days, her enthusiastic embrace of a liberated sexual lifestyle set the tone for the hundreds of hours of carnal debauchery we have since enjoyed to the full. Though we didn’t know it as the head of my cock pushed open the entrance to her vagina that July morning, the exploration of our mutual quest for orgasmic heaven and the discovery of the greater pleasure to be achieved when that quest is shared with others would be a significant and deeply satisfying part of our life together. Even today, over fifty years later, though diminished in urgency and frequency, it is a pleasure that remains undimmed and has added unmeasurably to the joy and strength of a deeply loving relationship.
Once my swollen cock head had pushed its way slowly past the entrance to her vagina and had penetrated a couple of inches into the heat of her love tunnel, I paused to savour the view of my manhood disappearing between the cheeks of her sexy bottom. I pulled out a little, fascinated by the way her lips clung to my shaft as if they were reluctant to release me from their wanton grasp, and then plunged hard until I was fully embedded in her hot cunt; Diana gasped and reached back to cradle my balls as they dangled between her thighs.