It was our wedding night, and despite having done damn near everything else, we had agreed to save the coitus, the final frontier, until we were married. We're Orthodox Jews, and hey, this was how we justified the everything else. He wasn't a virgin, having gotten religion in college after having his share of partners. I was, technically. After the wedding, still in our dress and suit (respectively), we drove over to the fancy hotel my parents graciously paid for (which is kind of weird in retrospect). I told him I had to "slip into something more comfortable", then went into the bathroom and got into a pair of fuzzy pink footy pajamas. I came out and did a striptease to "Natural Woman". I simply couldn't take this whole "deflowering" thing seriously. We commenced the consummation, in the bed and in the bathtub. I remember being underwhelmed, but knowing we would get better with practice. I didn't bleed, and it didn't hurt. I didn't come until we resorted to our usual fingerbanging - the clit wants what it wants, what can I say. Then we snuggled and watched Family Guy (which totally was still funny and not lame back in 2005), and ate leftover wedding food. It was perfect.
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