Personal Narrative: A Humorous Wedding

The morning of our wedding day dawned bright and beautiful with not a hint of rain or anything else that might ruin our special day. As the time neared for the ceremony, I quivered with excitement- I would finally know him as my husband. I would finally have proper love made to me. It was all I could think of. I remember very little of the ceremony, just his saying that he took me as his bride and his kiss that he restrained to the point of barely touching my lips with his. He seemed so aloof now that we were saying I do… I then realized that our coming together would have to wait until all of the festivities were finished and we took our leave from my father’s house. I wondered if he would ravish me as soon as we boarded the schooner or could

I associated the word gentle with the soft, supple, slippery thing that had nearly driven me crazy with desire. I lay back and closed my eyes, expecting a repeat of what I had experienced in La Nouvelle-Orléans. What I got was not that. Maybe it was gentle; I did not think so. It was definitely painful.
As I lay there expecting hands and lips to drive me insane, to make me want something deep inside of me, he spread my legs and slowly inserted himself into me. My pleasure place became a pain-filled space. Thankfully, it only lasted a few minutes. I could not stop the flow of tears nor the anger that rose in me at his selfishness. I knew what pleasure could be derived from the touch of a human hand, lips, and tongue. I felt slighted, left out. I felt used with a capitol U, and as he snuggled next to me, content in his selfishness, my anger grew.
“What the hell was that?” burst from my lips before I could stop myself. Then the words just kept coming. “You said you wanted to pleasure me; that was NOT pleasurable in the least! Maybe it was for you but not for me.”
Startled, Louis sat up and turned to me. “What were you expecting, my love. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it is always painful the first