Thanks to everyone who read this story, I honestly didn't expect that anyone would! Anyhow, I decided to add another chapter, just because. Very M rated. Again, so sorry Mrs. Gaskell. ;)

The Next Day

Margaret climbed into the bath, grateful for the warmth of the water, which soothed her muscles. Leaning back her head, she allowed herself a moment to relax and let her mind wander. She certainly had a lot to process. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night, her wedding night. Margaret had never experienced anything like that before and it had left her breathless and startled. Curious. And admittedly, excited. Her body was starting to grow heated now, and it wasn't merely from the hot water. Hesitating for a moment, Margaret finally raised her hand and tentatively brushed it against her breast. A delicious shiver danced through her at the touch. She hadn't ever realized before that they were so...sensitive, that, when touched properly, could elicit such a response. John, it seemed, had awakened Margaret to her body's potential. She wondered what more there was to know, what else she might be able to feel. Squeezing experimentally, she she rolled her thumb over her nipple, which was now standing up. She pinched it, and this sent a pleasant twinge down between her legs.

Margaret's eyes darted around the room, feeling shy and naughty but still so very curious. The curiosity eventually won out, though, and her other hand slowly slipped down under the water, seeking out that place where John had touched her last night, the place that had felt so good. She found it, that little nub, pressed her fingers against it, feeling a lovely little rush of pleasure when she did so. Biting her lip, Margaret wondered if she should dare go farther. This most definitely was not proper conduct for a young lady, she was certain, but it felt far too good. She succumbed to temptation, moving her fingers in a circular motion, slow at first and then more quickly. Her eyes fluttered closed at the building rush of pleasure. She found herself thinking of John, of that impressive organ between his legs. Her hand picked up its pace, spurred on by these imaginings. It made her want something inside of her, so Margaret took one of her fingers and slowly pushed it in, trying to adjust to the barrage of sensation. She'd never explored her own body this much before. The stimulation was too much to bear and she climaxed suddenly, letting out a little cry, her legs thrashing in the water as her inner walls spasmed and clutched around her finger. She slowly calmed, panting, her heart steadying itself. The bath had gone cold.

Later that evening, John noticed that Margaret was acting rather strange, nervous and almost bashful. She was pacing a bit, moving around the room and adjusting the curtains and so on, a clear sign that she was thinking too deeply about something. ''What is it?'' asked John with curiosity, setting aside the book he was reading. His wife was blushing now, he saw, ducking her head. ''I...''

It was oddly endearing, the way that she could speak so boldly about certain matters, but others reduced her to a shy, meek thing. He stood with a sigh and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. ''Margaret, look at me. I am your husband. You can confide in me; you can tell me anything, and you mustn't be ashamed.''

Slowly, she nodded and then began. ''Well, after...after what we did last night, I found myself...feeling certain things, new things, and I was curious.''

A smile crept over John's face as he wondered where this might be leading. ''Curiosity is natural,'' he spoke gently, encouragingly. Margaret's face grew even redder.

''Yes, well,'' she continued with a little cough, ''when I was in the bath, I found that I was thinking about last night, and my body began to...respond, so I started to touch myself as you touched me,'' this admission came breathlessly. John was still and quiet for a moment, the look he gave her was deep and burning. ''Show me,'' he said finally.

''What?'' asked Margaret, brow furrowing in surprise.

''Come into the bedroom and show me. I too am curious. I would like to see what you did.''

''Very well,'' she responded. Her heart had begun to quicken its pace. John took her by the hand and led her down the hall to their bedroom and closed the door. With slightly trembling fingers Margaret removed her dress and undergarments, aware of his eyes on her as she did so. Once she was settled on the bed, he took a seat at the end and waited, watching expectantly.

''I began like this,'' Margaret said, closing a hand over one of her breasts, mimicking her earlier actions. ''And did you enjoy that?'' asked John. She nodded. ''I did. I can't really explain why, though.''

''Our bodies were designed to make such things pleasurable, it is natural,'' he told her, feeling his cock straining at the front of his pants from the sight of what he had awakened in her. ''And then what did you do?''

Shy flutter of a movement, Margaret's other hand crept down to the thatch of hair between her legs, fingers moving over herself. John sucked in a sharp breath. ''Open your eyes,'' he commanded. With some hesitation, she obeyed, but then he saw her gaze drop lower, to the aching erection tenting his trousers. If he wasn't mistaken, her hand moved a little more quickly, and John felt a powerful jolt of lust sock him in the lower gut. She wanted him. If there was any doubt about this still lingering, it had now vanished completely. Deciding to test the waters, he moved up on the bed, closer to Margaret. Then he undid his pants and allowed his cock to spring free, taking himself in hand. Margaret licked her lips, an unconscious reflex. She felt a storm building inside of her, the...feelings coming more quickly now that John had forced her to open her eyes and look at him. She was getting incredibly wet, Margaret realized, there was moisture all over her fingers, continuing to gather. When he undid his pants, and she saw it, a powerful shiver went dancing through her body, making her want to rub that spot even harder.

''Spread your legs further,'' he said hotly. ''Let me get a look at you.''

Adjusting herself, Margaret splayed her legs wider, showing her most intimate place to him.

''I'm...I'm so wet,'' she confessed to him. John smiled. ''That is a good thing. It is your body's way of showing that it is excited, stimulated. Like mine,'' he adding, wrapping a hand around his shaft. ''Our bodies are craving each other. It is a perfectly natural thing,'' he reiterated as he began to stroke himself. ''It is how we were created.''

He continued as she watched, transfixed, while continuing to rub herself. When Margaret pushed a finger inside of her damp channel, he almost lost his mind. John had been aroused all day, thinking about her, and now to see her like this... Unconsciously, he moved closer. He was almost close enough for Margaret to touch, and she most definitely wanted to, but it seemed that now was not the time. For now, they were locked into this strange, erotic moment of observation.

Suddenly a spasm wracked her body as she started to come. Her hips bucked, her legs trembled and thrashed in the sheets as she writhed in a most unladylike way, overtaken by sensation. As her orgasm began to taper off, Margaret looked over at John. His hand was now moving even faster, and then he moaned, the sound heating her already simmering blood. His head fell back slightly, his face a mask of ecstasy. She watched as his cock twitched in his grip, then as thick, hot white liquid came shooting out of the tip and splattered all along her breasts and belly. After he came out of his daze and back to reality, John was briefly horrified as he saw what he had allowed himself to do...defiling her in such a way—and only on the second night of their marriage!

Hurrying over to the basin, he grabbed a wash cloth. With slightly shaking hands, he went to clean her off, but John could not deny the jolt of unholy lust that rocked him at the sight of his cum covering her lush body. Margaret didn't seem to be disgusted by this, oddly enough, only rather curious. She reached up and touched the substance, her own juices on her fingers now mingling with his. His heart almost stopped.

Truth be told, Margaret had actually been oddly aroused by what had just happened. A small smile lingered around the corners of her mouth as she allowed John to wipe away the traces of their lovemaking from her skin. He seemed shy and awkward now, she noticed. It was almost sweet. She reached out and took hold of his arm. His blue-grey eyes met hers when he felt the soft press of her fingers. ''Come and lie down with me,'' she said, and some of the worry melted away from his expression. ''As you wish,'' he said, climbing into bed beside her. Margaret cuddled against his chest, resting her head there and listening to the steady thudding of his heart. She was quiet for a moment, then spoke.

''I feel...very warm and very content,'' she began. It is a new thing, that contentedness. It went away for some time, everything felt so...cold and roug''h and gray. I feel better now. Complete, or almost at least.'' She smiled. ''Forgive me, I do go on so.''

''Share your thoughts with me,'' he said. He ran his fingers along her soft cheek. ''Go on as long as you like.''

''Was I terribly cruel to you in the beginning?'' she asked. ''I feel that I was. I judged you too harshly.''

''Perhaps I needed it,'' he answered honestly. ''We both learned a good deal from each other, I expect. And no, you weren't terribly cruel. A bit aggravating and stubborn at times perhaps, but I came to love that about you, your passion, your sense of right and wrong. I just...'' John cleared his throat and continued. ''To be honest, I assumed for the longest time that you were...repulsed by me. In every way.''

''No,'' Margaret answered quietly. ''It was not like that.''

He looked down at her with curiosity. ''I didn't quite know how to...I was, from time to time, having very strong feelings about you. They troubled me, to be perfectly honest.''

His eyebrows raised. ''Why? What was so troubling about them?''

''They were...well, you see, they were not entirely proper. That is, they were not the sorts of thoughts that a young lady should be having. I was very captivated by you. And infuriated, as well.'' She laughed lightly. ''I am not the only stubborn one.''

''We compliment each other nicely, I think,'' John said, leaning down to kiss his wife's forehead.

''That we do,'' Margaret said, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fall into a deep sleep.