The Unresisting Young Wife

The room was dim and close around me as I knelt on the bed, my fingers digging into the sheets, clutching a pillow like a lifeline. Shame, fear, raw anticipation—all twisted together into one tight, breathless knot.

I could hardly believe it. Me—a newlywed—letting another man have his way with me while my husband watched.

Our honeymoon was supposed to be romantic. Just us, the open road, no one else. Then we got a flat tire in the dead of night.

I slipped behind some bushes to pee, hiking up my skirt, trying to be quick. That's when my husband crept up behind me. I heard his low whistle right before he pulled me tight against his chest.

His hands locked around my thighs, forcing them apart like I was a little girl learning to use the toilet.

"Stop it," I gasped.

My whole body was shaking. I could barely catch my breath.

He bit my ear, his hands roaming. "Still shy? Like I haven't seen every part of you already?"

Then he stood, one hand fisting in my hair, the other working his zipper. I tilted my head back, ready for him.

A moan escaped me, but he wanted more. He pinned my wrists above my head and pushed me hard against the car.

Being used like that—completely at his mercy—it was electric. I was already wet, already arching toward him without him even touching me there.

Then headlights cut through the darkness.

A car came around the bend, lighting us up like we were on stage. The driver rolled down his window and gave a thumbs-up.

I burned with humiliation. But the danger, the exposure—it only turned me on more.

That night woke something up in me. A hunger I didn't know I had.