Wedding Day (Skip Pool Party)

The mirror reflected a stranger in white. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me—veil tucked, lips painted a soft rose, eyes wide with something that wasn't quite joy.

Sarah stood behind me, adjusting the train. Her fingers lingered on my shoulder. "You look perfect."

Chloe appeared at my other side, holding up her phone. "One last look before the big moment."

The screen glowed. A video loaded.

I watched myself on a bed, legs wrapped around a familiar back. The phone pressed to my ear. The memory of Mark's voice: "Love you." My response, breathless: "Love you too." All while Jason's hips drove into me, his cock disappearing between my thighs.

The video ended. Sarah swiped to a photo—my face buried in a stripper's crotch, cheeks hollowed, eyes half-closed.

Heat flooded my cheeks. Between my legs, a familiar ache stirred.

I should have felt shame. Instead, I the memory of my soon-to-be brother-in-lwa's cock filling me while my girlfriends watched, cheered and filmed.

"Put it away," I whispered. "Please."

Sarah pocketed the phone. Her hand found my waist, sliding around to the small of my back. "Nervous?"

"Yes." The word came out raw.

"Let us help you relax."

Chloe's hand landed on my hip. Her fingers traced the lace of my dress, a light, probing touch. Sarah's other hand cupped my breast through the bodice, her thumb finding my nipple, pressing.

"We can't," I said, my voice thin. "I'm getting married in an hour."

"Exactly," Sarah murmured. "One hour of freedom left."

Her lips found my neck. Chloe's hand slid lower, bunching the skirt of my dress, exposing my thighs. The air was cool against my bare skin.

"Stop—" The protest died on my lips as Sarah's fingers found the damp heat between my legs.

"She's already wet," Sarah announced, her voice amused. "Look at that. The bride can't wait."

Chloe laughed, a low, wicked sound. "Let's give her something to remember."

Their hands moved in tandem—Sarah circling my clit, Chloe rolling my nipple between her fingers. My head fell back, my eyes closing.

"Open your eyes," Sarah commanded. "Watch yourself."

The mirror showed everything. My dress bunched around my waist, my thighs spread, Sarah's hand working between them. My face, flushed, mouth slightly open, pupils blown.

Sarah pulled her hand away. "On the couch. On your back."

I obeyed. The velvet cushions sank under my weight. Sarah lifted my legs, draping them over her shoulders, and lowered her mouth to my center.

Her tongue was warm, precise. She circled my clit with lazy expertise, her fingers sliding inside me, curling in a rhythm that made my hips buck. I grabbed fistfuls of the couch, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

A presence between my thighs. Chloe's face appeared, her lips joining Sarah's, their tongues trading places, teasing, tormenting. I was drowning in sensation, two mouths working in concert, their fingers intertwining inside me.

"Please," I gasped. "Please..."

Chloe pulled back. "I'll be right back."

She disappeared through a side door. I barely registered it—Sarah's mouth had returned, her tongue flicking faster, harder, her fingers pumping in a steady rhythm that built toward something shattering.

Sarah shifted, turning, lowering herself over my face. The scent of her filled my senses, warm and musky. Her thighs pressed against my ears, her center inches from my lips.

"Your turn, Em."

I lifted my head. My tongue found her folds, slick and ready. She moaned above me, her hips grinding against my mouth, while her own tongue and fingers worked below.

The room existed in fragments. Sarah's wetness on my tongue. Her moans vibrating through my skull. The pressure building in my core, a coil winding tighter with every stroke of her fingers.

The door opened.

I couldn't see. Sarah's thighs blocked my view. I heard footsteps—two sets, heavier than Chloe's.

"Thought you might want some company."

Chloe's voice, bright and satisfied.

Sarah's fingers stopped moving. She lifted herself slightly, allowing me to see past her hip.

Two men stood at the foot of the couch.

The wedding photographer, Jake, his camera up to his face, already snapping pictures. The DJ, Marcus, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark skin gleaming under the lights. Both had their cocks out, hard and ready, jutting from their unzipped trousers.

"Wait—" The protest barely left my lips.

Sarah grabbed my ankles, pulling my legs up and apart. Spreading me open. "Look at them, Emma. Look at what's waiting for you."

My eyes found their cocks. Jake's was long and pale, a prominent vein running along the shaft. Marcus's was thicker, darker, the head a deep plum, already slick with pre-cum.

I should have screamed. I should have called for Mark.

Instead, I met Marcus's eyes. I nodded.

Chloe guided Jake forward. His cock pressed against my entrance, slick with Sarah's saliva. He pushed inside, slow, and I stretched around him, my walls gripping, welcoming.

Sarah climbed off my face. Her hand found my hair, pulling my head up. "Open wide."

Marcus's cock appeared in front of my face. Thick, dark, the smell of him clean and masculine. I parted my lips. He slid inside, filling my mouth, the weight of him heavy on my tongue.

Two cocks. One inside me, one in my throat.

I moved in a rhythm I didn't control—my hips meeting Jake's thrusts, my mouth working Marcus's shaft, my tongue tracing the ridge beneath his head. The room around me dissolved into sensation.

The photographer's camera clicked. Chloe's phone recorded. Sarah's voice murmured encouragement, instructions, praise.

Jake's cock stretched me in ways that made my vision blur. He fucked me with long, deliberate strokes, his hands on my thighs, spreading me wider. Sarah's fingers found my clit, rubbing in tight circles that pushed me toward the edge.

Jake's pace quickened. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm close."

"Inside her," Sarah said. "Give it to her."

He drove deep, his body shuddering, and I felt his release flood me, hot and thick, pulse after pulse. He stayed inside, his cock twitching, his breath ragged.

Marcus pushed further into my mouth. My eyes bulged as my throat opened for him, his ebony cock contrasting with my pale skin. His hand wrapped around the base, stroking himself, his eyes locked on mine.

He pulled back until just the tip was still in my mouth. His seed hit my tongue, thick and warm. I swallowed. Another pulse. I swallowed again. The taste was salty, bitter, intoxicating.

His hand stroked faster, jet after jet pulsed out of him. I swallowed as much as I could, but it spilled out of the corners of my mouth, running down my face. I licked it clean, my eyes never leaving his.

The room went still.

Jake was zipping up. Marcus was tucking himself away. Chloe was smiling at her phone, reviewing the footage.

"Get her cleaned up," Sarah said, her voice businesslike. "We've got twenty minutes."

They moved like a well-oiled machine—wiping me down, fixing my hair, reapplying my lipstick. The dress settled back into place, hiding everything that had happened.

I stood. My legs wobbled.

The mirror showed a woman in white, composed, blushing. No one would know. No one could tell.

A load of cum sat in my belly. Another ran down my thigh, hidden by the layers of fabric.

My phone buzzed. A text from Mark: Almost time, future Mrs. Davis. I can't wait to see you.

I typed back: I can't wait either.

The words tasted like the salt of another man's seed, still coating my tongue.

Sarah took my arm. "Ready, bride?"

I looked at my reflection. The woman stared back—a stranger in white, a secret hidden beneath silk and lace.

"No," I whispered. "But let's go anyway."

The door opened. Music drifted from the venue, soft and swelling.

I took a step forward. Then another. Each step carried the weight of what I'd done, what I'd become.

One hour ago, I was a bride.

Now I was something else entirely.

The double doors loomed ahead. Beyond them, an aisle. Beyond that, Mark. Waiting. Trusting. Loving.

My hand found the bouquet. White roses. Tied with a blue ribbon.

Something borrowed. Something blue.

I'd borrowed more than jewelry today.

The doors began to open. Light flooded in.

I took a breath—deep, steadying—and stepped into the glow.