The first night as newlyweds holds the most indelible memories. I recall my own night, twenty years back, though it left a lasting mark for entirely different reasons.
As is customary for just-wed couples, we arrived at our hotel room shortly after pledging our vows. Filled with mutual affection, encompassed by kisses and laughter, we recognized the limited window to shed our wedding attire before the reception.
Thankfully, my newlywed wife had chosen an overskirt wedding gown. With the removal of the overskirt, I spontaneously knelt, elevated her dress, and proceeded to assist with her undergarments. Yet, her pause gave rise to a different discourse.
"Uh... There's something I need to tell you," she said confided uneasily detaining my eager hands, "Something is wrong down there. It smells."
My response must have conveyed reassurance, as we found ourselves laying on the floor, my weight atop hers. Unzipping my tuxedo pants, I adjusted her position, and our intimacy deepened. Something did feel a little odd as I penetrated into her, arousing my curiosity. Withdrawing, I investigated, and discovered a piece of toilet paper entwined along one side of me.
It turned out that before our wedding, my bride had used toilet paper as a temporary solution until she found a tampon.
Phil Interlandi, PLAYBOY (August 1994)
