Liz, the Maid of Honor

I opened the door, and there stood Liz, the Maid of Honor, in her royal purple bride's maid dress that matched my purple cummerbund.

She asked, "Hey, I was just checking on you. Can I come in?"

"Sure," I replied as I opened the door wide.

She floated in the room, shut the door behind her, and then embraced me in a tight clinch, her lips pressing hard against mine. I wasn’t about to stop this lovely woman from kissing me, so I responded, flicking my tongue across her lips enticingly. She opened her mouth and accepted my tongue, probing and cavorting in her mouth. Liz was the first woman that I didn't need to bend down to kiss.

She broke the kiss and said, “You know. There’s an old tradition of the Best Man bedding the Maid of Honor at these affairs.” Her eyes smiled laughingly at me.

“I have heard of that tradition,” I said, somewhat noncommittally, holding her body close to mine.

“Well, I’m leaving right after the reception, so I thought I come by and uphold tradition now, since we have some time before we have to get in the limos. Michelle is taking a short nap. She’s in her dress. She just needs her makeup done. So, I figure we have about twenty to thirty minutes,” she said, pulling the straps on her dress down her shoulders. “Why don’t you help me out of this monstrosity? The zippers in the back.”