The Three Colonels by Jack Caldwell

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    â€œWhat… what did you call me?” she asked, trembling.
    â€œCaro. You are my Caro—my delight—and I shall call you thus when we are together… thus.”
    Caroline slipped her arms around her husband again. Covering his face with kisses, she barely noticed that Sir John had dropped his hands again, this time to raise the hem of the negligee. He pulled it up, and Caroline lifted her arms to allow her husband to raise it over her head. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the flimsy nothing towards a corner. Sir John reached and lifted his bride in his arms and carried her to their marriage bed.
    He placed her on the sheets. “To pleasure thee is my delight.” He stood up and slowly removed his own garment. Caroline could not tear her eyes away from his manhood.
    â€œDo not fear, my dear. ’Tis me; ’tis natural. It was made for thee.”
    â€œFor me? That will fit… inside of me?”
    â€œOh, yes, my dear, and it will give you great pleasure.” He took his place lying next to Caroline and began to kiss her, stroking her breasts again.
    Currents of delight coursed through her, and she murmured repeatedly against his lips, “Yes… oh, yes.”
    Sir John’s hand reached down to the hot, dewy core of her. Slowly, carefully, he played her as skillfully as one might play the keys of a pianoforte, but the music was Caroline’s cries of pleasure as she moved against his hand.
    After a time, he placed his body over hers, and her arms reached up to embrace him. “Are you ready for me, Caro?” he asked. To her nod, he added, “There will be but a bit of pain. Forgive your Johnny.” She nodded again.
    Slowly he eased his manhood into her. Caroline gasped as she felt for the first time the sensation of being filled. Sir John tried with all his will to be as gentle as he could, but the exquisite pleasure nearly undid him. Caroline cried out as he became fully embedded in her, but soon he felt her begin to relax.
    â€œCaro, are you well?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” she gasped, the pain already fading. “Oh, yes. Please do not stop.” Her hands reached down to his buttocks. She grasped him and pulled him ever deeper inside.
    Instinctively, he began his strokes—first slowly and then with increasing speed. Caroline’s hips rose to meet each thrust. He whispered in her ear, “Caro… my Caro. I am yours… your Johnny… forever.”
    The fierce groan she made in reply was too much for Sir John. With a cry, he spilled his seed deep within his virgin bride.
    Caroline could feel his release flooding her core, the heat radiating into her. She was overwhelmed by the sensation of being one with her husband, of completeness. She seized Sir John as tightly as she could as he continued to convulse. Finally, he collapsed upon her breast, both of them slick from the exertion of their lovemaking.
    When she could catch her breath, Caroline asked, “John, are you well?”
    â€œAh, yes, my dear—never better. But,” he stroked her face, “are you?”
    He saw her eyes fill with tears of joy. “I… I never dreamed. Oh John—”
    â€œJohnny,” he interrupted her. “As you are Caro, I am Johnny, when we are thus.”
    She held him close again. “Johnny… thank you,” she said with a kiss.
    ***
    The night was beyond his expectations. Caroline soon conquered any apprehension or awkwardness that had existed, and when he whispered the private name he had chosen for her—Caro—into her ear, her reaction almost overcame him. Afterwards, the look of wonder and gratification on Caroline’s lovely face was the greatest reward Buford could imagine.
    And now as Caroline slept, her body wrapped around him, Buford was filled with wonder and gratification as well. Another man might have basked in self-satisfaction, but Caroline’s husband knew his own