Wedding and Defloration

We process into the church together and sit at the very front. The Reverend, of course, gives a sermon on Psalm 127. What else.

Then comes the actual ceremony. Adam and I exchange our vows, in which I promise to be fertile and ready to receive his seed, in order to take as many arrows as possible into my quiver. This is a traditional saying among the Quiverfulls.

In the church garden, a large feast has been set up for us and the community. There is a celebration. Around 8:00 PM, Ben and Cynthia, along with Daniela and Edith, take the little ones back to our farm; Daniela and Edith stay with them while Ben and Cynthia return.

At 10:00 PM, it is time to board our car and drive to our new home. Traditionally, the wedding party stays behind.

Once we are inside the house, Adam says to me: "Wife, the time has come. Bend over the table and pull your dress up to your waist."

Now he is going to deflower me. I do as I am bidden; since I am wearing nothing under the dress, my shame is, of course, immediately exposed.

He undresses completely and already has an erection from the sight. He places his bare glans against my cleft. A jolt, and my hymen gives way; I cry out a little. Then, somewhat inexperience-dly, he begins to poke around inside me. But he quickly finds a rhythm, though he cannot hold out for long. His stones are likely filled to bursting. I feel him grow even stiffer, and then he pumps bursts of his sperm into me.

He remains inside me for a while before withdrawing. I feel his fluid running down my legs and forming a small puddle on the wooden floor beneath me.

Now I am a wife and a quiver.