Author: The Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net.
Please use “Story Comments” in subject line if you send e-mail.
Title: Under The Desert Moon  
Keywords: M/F, rom, 1st, married
Summary: Stranded newlyweds make their situation delightful

    Serena woke from a fitful doze when she heard Mark hiss. She looked at him behind the wheel and felt a stab of concern.  Mark hissed like that when he wanted to swear. He'd quit swearing when they started going steady.
    "What's the matter, sweetheart?" she asked, still slumped against the window.
    "The oil warning light has gone red and we're a long way from nowhere. If I keep driving I'll ruin the engine."
    "Do we have any extra oil with us?"
    "No, it never crossed my mind. Now we're about to get stuck in the desert on our wedding night! Well, you're a June bride, so it won't be too cold."
    Serena was sitting up now, all four-foot-eleven of her. "Won't somebody stop and help us?"
    "Sure if someone comes along. But we've had this God-forsaken stretch of desert to ourselves for over two hours now." He pulled the old Vega to the side of the road and shut the engine off. "It may be all right in a few hours, after it cools off some. At least it ought to get us to the next town." Not that Mark knew where the next town was.
    "Well, if we're going to be here for a while, let's make the best of it," said Serena. Mark smiled; "make the best of it" was Serena's favorite answer to any problem.
    And they'd had a few problems. First was height: six-three to four-eleven.  Friends had set them up on a blind date at college two years before just to see if they could dance together.
    Serena had discovered that Mark was very graceful for a tall man and he danced very well. She hardly felt her feet touch the floor because they didn't. He had simply lifted her, an easy task because she weighed less than a hundred pounds, and had glided around the floor with her. Luckily, she was wearing jeans; a dress would probably have slid up to an embarrassing height.
    There had been family problems, especially after the first summer apart. When Serena found Mark waiting outside her dorm room with a dozen roses, she knew that he was getting serious. She could still remember the first meeting with her father and Mark.
    "You wish to spend your time with my daughter, I understand," had been her father's first words. He hadn't even said hello or asked Mark to sit down.
    "Yes, sir. We spent some time together last term, and I believe she enjoyed herself as much as I did."
    "I believe also. Her grade point average was two-tenths down from the term before. I have had to speak with her about proper attention to her grades."
    "Daddy," she had broken in, "let Mark have a seat. Besides, my grades went from 4.0 to 3.8, and the B was in algebra. Before I met Mark, I was pulling a C. He helped me study sometimes."
    "I believe he did not always study," her father had said gruffly. Mark had given her a startled look, but she'd had no idea of what to say. It had been a difficult afternoon until Mark mentioned that he played at Go, the ancient Japanese strategy game.
    Her father had beaten Mark severely before supper, but he seemed resigned to the idea that his daughter was dating a hairy savage after that. He had taken only a week to agree to their marriage.
    Mark's family had not been easy, either. "Getting married? So soon? What about graduate school? An advanced degree would help you so much."
    "I may even get it someday," he'd told his mother. "But I've had enough of school for a while. There's a position with a drilling company in Wyoming and I need some work in the real world. It'll pay well enough to keep us happy and Serena can get a teaching job." So they had married this afternoon and now they were stuck somewhere south of Las Vegas.
    Mark opened the hatchback and took out the cooler. He sloshed it, glad to hear the sound of ice mixed with water. If they were stuck for a long time, that might help a lot. In the meantime, he opened it and checked on the bottle of champagne that his brother had given them for their wedding night. An idea was beginning to take shape...
    Serena was opening one of the cartons from the back. Mark saw that it was marked "Bedroom." She laid out two blankets on a flat part of the ground, well clear of the road itself, and she called out, "Bring the cooler and the grocery bag over here. We'll just make a picnic!"
    Mark looked to the west where the sun was half-hidden behind a range of low mountains. "It's going to be dark soon," he said. They sat side by side, Serena nestling against his big chest, her head almost fitting under his arm even when they were seated. "I wanted to treat you to a fancy dinner in Las Vegas tonight, maybe a show in one of the hotels. We were supposed to spend tonight in a nice place. Or at least a place with a bed."
    "Oh, Mark, what are you worried about? So we have to wait until tomorrow night.  Big deal. We've waited two years already."
    "I don't want to wait another day. I've never known anyone as beautiful as you, Serena.  Soft, pretty, glorious. Every time we've gone swimming, every time I've seen you in your bikini, I've had to stay in the water until you couldn't tell how much I wanted you."
    She giggled in her very special way. "I always knew, Mark. I wanted you, too, but I didn't want to make love then. I wanted to be sure of your love." 
    "I sure hope you're convinced by now. I've put up with your father for a long time to have you."
    "Oh, you like my father now. It was just hard at first."
    He tilted his head sideways, resting his cheek on her head. "Yes, I like him now. He even likes me, just a little. I still don't think he ever wanted you to marry me."
    "He wanted to arrange my marriage like he would have done in Japan. It's funny; he came over when he was twenty-seven with an arranged bride himself, so he thought he would arrange his kids' marriages. After twenty-five years in America, he still thought that. If you had been Japanese, it would have been easier."
    "I'm glad he finally came around. Not that Mom was easy."
    "Your mother thinks I bewitched you. Am I really the first girl you brought home?"
    "You really are, and you did bewitch me." She was cutting pieces of Monterey jack and stacking them on crackers. When she had a dozen or so ready, they ate them as they watched the last rays of the sunset fading. The night was still hot and Mark slipped off his T-shirt.
    His skin was light-toned and he had to be careful to avoid sunburns. He had flat, hard muscles from his summer jobs: construction work, hauling stock in warehouses.  Serena loved to tease him with her hands on his chest. He'd only let her do that on his bare chest once.  It had created such a fire that he'd nearly made a fool of himself, pressed her for things she didn't want to do.
    Mark got oranges and the champagne bottle from the ice chest. He sat facing his bride and they shared the oranges as the moong-low began to silhouette another range of mountains to the east. There were no ranches or other buildings anywhere near them, and the only light came from the stars and the rising moon.
    It was enough; it was exactly right. As the moon rose, Serena saw her new husband silhouetted against the deep blue horizon and the saw-toothed ridge to the east. The night air was dry, crisp, cleaner than any she'd ever breathed. The tang of desert creosote hung on the air and filled her senses. Mark was shaking the champagne bottle, and suddenly he popped its cork.
    "Look at that!" he yelled. "Look how far it went!"
    "Look at this!" she sputtered. "You got champagne all over my shirt!" She took the bottle and held her thumb over the opening, shaking it and spraying Mark to return the favor.
    He caught her in his arms and took the bottle, pouring what was left into coffee mugs from their kitchen box. He handed her one and, kneeling, drew her to her knees.
    "To the sweetest girl ever granted to a rough old country boy," he said."
    "You're no rough old country boy," she said. "You're from a city, just like me. You are kind of rough, though."
    "Then the sweetest girl ever granted to a diamond in the rough," he said, touching his mug to hers. "Normally you can't drink your own toast, but we're the only ones here so I guess you'll have to."
    Serena sipped the champagne, enjoying the bubbles up her nose. Mark drank his, too, but cautiously; he had never used alcohol very much at school. They drank the rest of the bottle over the next half hour, tipsy and giggling more from the start of a new life than from the wine.
    By now the moon was high over them, its silver wash painting everything in the valley. The mountains to the west glowed and soft shadows reached away from the car, the Joshua trees, even from their own bodies.
    "I can make a moon shadow," laughed Serena. She stood up and danced a few steps on the blanket. Then she kicked off her shoes and pirouetted, watching her shadow dance across the desert with her. Mark watched for a minute, and then he joined her. He held her arm above her head and helped her spin. They joined their hands and she led him into the road, singing something fast in Japanese. They spun around each other until they were out of breath, and Mark called a halt. "No more, please, darling. I'm too dizzy to keep it up."
    They walked back to their picnic on the blankets. When they got there, Mark put his hands on Serena's shoulders and held her at arm's length, drinking in the sight of her.
    Her long hair hung halfway down her back. Her almond eyes glowed in the moonlight, her bright smile shining brighter, to him, than the moon itself. She was so tiny, perfectly formed like a sculpture of a beautiful woman. But she was real, and she was here, and they were married. Suddenly he lifted her in a great bear hug and his lips found hers.
    They found her ready, eager for his touch and his kiss. They brushed their lips for a moment and she wrapped her legs around his waist to be more secure. He shifted his hands under her hips where her shorts were pulled very tight. Her breasts, small and tender, pushed against his bare chest through her thin top. The champagne had dried but her excitement was beginning to show in the angle of her breasts.
    She offered her mouth, parting her lips when she felt his tongue seeking for hers. They kissed for a long, long, breathless time, kissed as they had always wanted to do and had not dared, had not dared because they were protecting some part of their love until it was ready to bloom.
    It was blooming now. It was bursting from two years of love that had made desire wait.  It was bursting from all their years of wondering what this moment would be.  Serena felt her lips almost glowing with the heat that began, not in her heart, but between her legs. She could feel Mark's body responding as hers was.
    "This hardly seems the place," he said, when finally they broke off to inhale.
    "This is exactly the place.  Was there ever a place more beautiful? There's only you and me in the whole world here. Here was made just for us, just for this night. We mustn't waste it."
    "I think you're right," he said, his breath growing more ragged with each word. He knelt to the blanket, still holding her in his arms, until her feet touched. 
   Mark pulled Serena's shirt out of her shorts and let his hands play across her waist and her stomach. She ran her hands through his hair, holding his head in her palms and leaning down to kiss him again. His kiss was sweet and burning, as she'd always hoped it would be. His hands, sliding up her back, awakened feelings she'd known only from her own touch, awakened them in ways she'd read about and dreamed of but never known.
    She explored his neck and shoulders, roaming onto the bare skin and light hair of his chest. Playfully she tugged on a couple of hairs and he yelped.
    "What do you think you're doing? Put those back, I don't have very many!" he said.
    "You have just the right number, my manly man," she said, putting her head down and breathing the words onto his skin.
    He pulled her top up, reaching over her head as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves. Her hair cascaded down over her shoulders, the black tresses etched against the soft honey tone of her skin. Her bra was pink lace, foamy on her chest, the color barely visible in the silvery sheen from above. The moon gave her body and its flimsy cover a glow that drove Mark's senses away.
    Mark managed to kick off his shoes as he opened the front of the bra and his hands touched her breasts for the first time. The sensation of her firm mounds, her tight nipples, her smooth skin was new to him and he touched her as lightly as he could. Serena wasn't sure when she was feeling the touch she had ached for so many times and when she was feeling the soft night air. He kissed her navel and then his lips fanned her, like a feather from a dove, along the line of her stomach to her breasts. His hands were still gliding around her torso, now on her back, now her stomach, now her breasts. She ran her fingers along his muscled arms, feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms to match the tingle of her own flesh.
    Mark let his hands drop to her legs. He caressed Serena from her feet to the tops of her thighs in one long, light, feathery stroke. He no longer owned the arms or hands that caressed the satin skin.  He was only getting wild reports from the fingers. The feather touch pulled a moan from Serena's throat.
    He stopped at her knees, ticking the backs of them until she shouted with laughter. "Mark, you beast! Do you know what you're doing to me?"
    "Not really," he said as he looked up from licking her stomach. "It's not like I've had a lot of practice. But I do read, you know."
    "You were reading the right books," she giggled. A pulling sensation was running from her belly to her thighs, a pull she welcomed and would not try to deny for long. She threw her head back as she felt Mark unbuttoning her shorts, slipping down the zipper, opening them. The sound of the zipper rang in her ears, each tick of the zipper bringing her one step closer to nakedness.  His eager hands drew the shorts down to expose the panties that hid like a treasure underneath. "Pink," he breathed heavily. "My favorite kind. Did you know that?"
    "They're my favorites," she managed to say. "I'm glad they're yours, too."
    "You're my real favorite," he gasped. Their self-control was disappearing and they waved it a quick good-bye. Mark finished pulling Serena's shorts down and she stepped out of them.  Perspiration glowed on her in the moonlight as she urged Mark to his feet and began her own explorations.
    His stomach was flat, hard, ridged like the desert that surrounded them. His skin was as slick as hers and it shone in the pale light that surrounded them. She touched the bulge she had glimpsed but never dared touch before, the bulge that matched the tension of her own nipples.. She whispered something, she knew not what, and heard his voice as if from a great distance.
    She pulled his belt loose and unsnapped his cutoff jeans. Her hands found their own way into the fly and his underpants.  Serena gasped a little as she touched Mark's penis for the first time, felt the tiny drop at the tip and realized she could feel the same between her own legs.  She practically snatched Mark's pants and briefs away and he enveloped her, sheltering her nakedness with her own.
    She wasn't quite naked, though. He knelt again, kissing her breasts and her stomach, and then he lowered her panties. His hands seemed drawn to her bottom as if by a magnet and he played with her body like a child with a new toy.
    Nor was she idle. She was touching every part of him, feeling his tight hips, his hard legs, his cock as it throbbed against her. Finally, neither could bear the waiting any longer. He picked her up, clothed only in her glory, and laid her on the blankets. Then he stretched himself beside her, pulling her on top of him. He gloried in the feel of her small, warm, softness on him. She raised herself and he looked with awe on her beautiful breasts, her shining eyes, her raven hair. Her thighs were pressed against his, were driving him mad. He sat up, gently pushing her onto her back, and positioned himself between her legs.
    She took his cock into her vagina eagerly. There was a moment of consternation for Serena, a pressure that gave way quickly to pleasure, as he found his way into her folds. He trembled a little against her and she was surprised to find that she was trembling too. They pushed against each other and drew back, rocked together and apart over and over. Serena had never pleased herself as thoroughly as this pleased her.  Her own touch was good, but this filled her body and fed her soul at the same time.  Mark's body felt so good inside her, touched things she couldn't and in ways she couldn't.  His breath and the force of his body pressing inside her told her what he could not find words to say.  The waiting was over, the joining had finally come, and their joy was worth all the longing that went before.
  They fell at last, a long fall of ecstasy into a sea that raised them, engulfed them, raised them again. It broke over them and they were suddenly spent.
    The waves dampened out, the tide receded even as the moon touched the mountains to the west, the long moon-shadows fading as it set. The shadows looked on two lovers, tangled in blankets by a rusty old car, lost in sleep and in each other, waiting for the dawn to touch them and to begin their new life together.