It Hurts, It’s my First Time Tonight ” – the Virgin Bride Said to the Lonely Cowboy, he said I’ll
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“It Hurts, It’s my First Time Tonight” — The Virgin Bride Said to the Lonely Cowboy, He Said “I’ll Make it Easy”
The rain beat against the zinc roof of the stable with a steady, heavy rhythm. Saskia Brennan, a giant woman, stood clutching the reins of her mare tighter than necessary, her knuckles white with tension. She had come for saddle repairs but was now trapped—by the storm, and by him.
Calvin Rhodes, the ranch foreman, was leaning against the workbench, arms crossed over his broad chest. Even standing still, he filled the space. He was a sturdy man, but at 5’11”, she towered over him by four inches. He watched her with an intensity that always made her uneasy.
“I carry 25 centimeters,” he drawled, his eyes dark and fixed on hers. He wasn’t talking about his belt knife. “You think you could handle that?”
Saskia felt the blood rush to her face. She knew exactly what he was asking. She stiffened, lifting her chin with the dignity her upbringing demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack Donovan.”
He gave a slow, dangerous smile, pushing off the workbench to walk toward her. “You come here three, four times a week, always finding some excuse. A saddle to fix, a horse to shoe, a fence to check.”
“I manage the ranch since Father died. It’s natural that I—”
“Natural would be sending one of the ranch hands,” he interrupted, stopping just inches away. The scent of leather, clean sweat, and wood filled the air. “But you always come personally.”
Saskia opened her mouth to protest, but the words died. He was right. All those visits, all those flimsy excuses. She was looking for exactly this.
“You are being presumptuous.”
“I am,” he agreed, taking another step. Now she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. “Then why is your heart racing? Why are your cheeks flushed?”
“I am not that kind of woman.”
“What kind?” He studied her face. “The kind who has desires? The kind who wants to be touched?”
Her breath hitched. “I was raised in the church. I learned there is a right time for everything. A woman of respect—”
“You’re 25 years old, Saskia,” his voice softened. “How many more years are you going to wait for the right time?”
It was a cruel question because she asked herself the same thing every lonely night. She had never been kissed, never been touched. Suitors fled after one look, whispering she was too big, too strong, too much woman.
Calvin lifted his hand, giving her time to pull away. She stood paralyzed as his fingers touched her face, warm and rough against her skin.
“And what if I tell you that this,” he leaned closer, his breath warm on her lips, “is the most right thing I’ve ever felt in my life?”
A Promise of Patience
Saskia’s heart hammered. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head: You don’t give yourself away before marriage.
“Let them talk.” Calvin cupped her face. “I don’t care about the whole county if you are with me.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not delicate. I’m not soft. It hurts knowing I’m your wife now, and I don’t even know how to—” Her voice broke. “It’s my first time tonight, Calvin. And I’m terrified.”
Calvin crossed the final distance between them. “Do you know why I answered your letter?” he asked quietly. “Because you wrote: ‘I’m too much for most men. Too tall, too strong, too direct. I’ve stopped apologizing for taking up space, but I haven’t stopped wanting someone to share it with.’ That’s when I knew you were exactly what I needed.”
He brushed away her tears. “My first wife, Emma, was 5’2, delicate as lace. I loved her. But then your letter came, and I realized I didn’t want a replacement for what I lost. I wanted someone strong enough to build a life with, not someone I had to protect from every hard wind.”
“You’re not too much, Saskia. The world is just too small.”
“Everyone says it hurts,” she whispered, her fear returning. “That you just have to endure it.”
“No,” Calvin’s voice was firm. “Not with me. Not ever with me.”
“But you’re a man. You have needs.”
“I’ll make it easy,” he interrupted. “You hear me? Whatever happens tonight happens at your pace. We stop whenever you want. And if all we do is talk until the sun comes up, that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
Saskia stared at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. He was offering her control, choice, and safety—things no one had ever offered her before.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“I’d wait a week, a month, a year, however long you need to trust me. This isn’t about me taking something from you. It’s about us learning each other.”
“Why are you being so kind?”
“Because kindness is the only thing that matters in a marriage bed. My first wife taught me that.” He stepped back. “Now, I need you to believe something: I want you. Not despite your size. Not in spite of your strength, but because of it.”
The First Night: Trust and Tenderness
“I want to believe you,” she whispered.
“Then let me show you.” Calvin led her to the bed to sit on the edge, side by side. “We’re going to start slow. So slow you’ll think I’ve lost my mind. But I need you to trust the pace. Now tell me, where does it hurt? Right now, before anything else, tell me where you’re holding your fear.”
“Here,” Saskia pressed a hand to her chest. “My heart feels like it’s trying to break out of my body.”
Calvin placed his hand over hers, over her heart. “That’s me promising you’re safe right here, right now. You are completely safe with me.”
He held her hand and just breathed with her. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed. “What do you know about what happens between a husband and wife?” he asked gently.
“They say it hurts the first time, that you just have to get through it, and then it gets better.”
“Those women did you a disservice. It doesn’t have to hurt. Pain, real pain, that’s not necessary. That’s what happens when a man is selfish or ignorant. Emma and I took three nights before we fully came together. Three nights of just learning each other. And you know what? Those were the most intimate nights of my life.”
“You really waited three nights?”
“I would have waited thirty if she needed it.”
“So, what do we do tonight?”
“We take tonight to get comfortable with each other. No expectations, no pressure, just closeness. We won’t do anything that hurts. All with our clothes on. Intimacy starts with trust.”
Saskia looked at the firelight dancing on his face. She turned, faced him, and wrapped her arms around him. He fit against her like he was made to be held by her. “Is this okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “You matter to me, and I’m terrified of doing something that makes you afraid of me.”
“You’re afraid of what?”
“That I’ll fail you. That I’ll be like those other men who made you feel wrong. That I’ll hurt you despite my best intentions.”
“I don’t regret you,” she whispered. “Even scared, I don’t regret you.”
The Wedding Vow
They kissed until Saskia’s fear had transformed into something else entirely—curiosity, warmth, life. When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Saskia whispered, “That wasn’t like kissing a horse.”
Calvin laughed, a real, full laugh. “No, it definitely wasn’t.”
“I think I’m ready now,” she whispered. “For everything. If you still want to.”
“You sure? We don’t have to tonight. We’ve already done so much.”
“I’m sure. Because I trust you, and because I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
What happened next was tender and careful. Calvin kept his promise, stopping instantly whenever she tensed, murmuring words of encouragement and praise until her body opened to him like a flower to the sun. The discomfort was minimal, transformed by patience.
When it was over, Saskia lay spent and trembling. “It didn’t hurt,” she whispered. “You really made it easy.”
“We made it easy,” Calvin corrected. “Together.”
Calvin cupped her face. “Cásate conmigo.”
Saskia pulled away, surprised. “We just—”
“I don’t want you to think it was just a moment. I know you’re the woman I want to wake up to every day for the rest of my life. You’re not too big. You’re exactly right for me.”
“The people will say I’m liviana.”
“The only opinions that matter are yours and mine. And I think we’re doing just fine.”
“I think you’re right,” Saskia whispered, pulling him closer. “This is the most right thing that ever happened to me.”
As the first hints of dawn crept through the window, Saskia awoke, sunlight streaming over the bed. Calvin was awake, watching her.
“I love you,” he said. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget that.”
Three months later, Saskia stood tall in the general store, one hand resting on her belly. She heard the whispers about the giant and the cowboy, but she didn’t care.
When she walked out, Calvin was waiting. She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Calvin whooped, then pulled Saskia down from the wagon and kissed her right there in the middle of Main Street. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Saskia. That’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
Loving each other—this giant bride and this lonely cowboy—was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. Because real love doesn’t measure in inches or fear. Real love just makes room, adjusts, and finds a way to fit.
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