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Subject: {ASSM} "Bride" by deirdre (mf, ff) -- reposted by H. Jekyll and PleaseCain
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"Bride" (mf, ff)
by deirdre
*****
NOTE: We are not the authors of this story. "deirdre" was the
enigmatic queen of Usenet sex stories in the mid-1990s. She posted 156
stories in just over two years, using an anonymous remailer and
apparently *never* corresponding with anyone. She was last heard from
in late April 1996. We will repost all 156 stories, with comments by
her, in alphabetical order, between now and the 10th anniversary of her
"retirement." In the coming months, we will announce a "deirdre-fest"
for next Spring. Meanwhile, enjoy!
To contact us: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com, or PleaseCain@aol.com.
*****
Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people,
often depict "breaking some rules." Do not read this story if you
believe fantasy stories should never depict situations undesirable in
real life. Be warned that you may not be comfortable with the sexual
situations. Do not read this story if you are less than 18 years of
age.
Permission granted to archive, repost, or publish in low-cost CD-ROM
archives of alt groups. Permission granted to publish in periodicals
and anthologies of this type of material if attributed to deirdre and
an author's payment is sent to AIDS research in the name of deirdre.
-- deirdre
Bride
by deirdre
Where was she? I was at Helen Benson's wedding reception and was
wondering where she had gone. Helen and I had been friends since
elementary school--best friends, in fact. We had been like sisters,
and had experienced together the trials and tribulations of high
school. Then came college and I went to the east while Helen stayed
home and went to junior college. We talked on the phone a lot during
that first year apart and we visited every time I came home. But
eventually, after a year or so, we weren't phoning each other, and only
talked to each other when I came home.
Mom said I didn't know Helen as well as I used to, but she was
wrong--whenever I *did* get home, which was often no more than twice a
year, we did get together and every time, we would start conversing
just as if we were together every day. Mom looked unconvinced, but I'm
not certain she had as close a friend as Helen through all her
grade-school years.
When Helen told me she was going to marry Jim, I admit I was a bit
surprised. I didn't really know that much about Jim, and indeed the
reason was because Helen and I usually only got to talk two or three
times a year. But when she asked me to be her maid of honor, I knew I
was still her best friend.
The wedding had been absolutely beautiful--Helen is great looking and
she had this absolutely beautiful wedding gown: white and beautiful,
but showing off her figure too. She was stunning and I wondered if I
would look as good when I got married.
But she had disappeared during the reception and I was a little
worried. The groom was still around as was her mother and anyone else
I could think of she might go to if she were having a problem. She had
had a lot of champagne during the picture-taking and had been drinking
more when we arrived. She was obviously feeling great, but I wondered
how much she could handle. I left the hotel ball room and went to
check the women's room. No Helen. I peeked up and down a few halls,
wondering what I might be looking for. Up one hall came this guy
without a jacket and wearing a bow-tie. One of the waiters. I thought
about asking him if he'd seen Helen but I felt that would be too
strange. Something made me walk down the hall he came from, and then
around the corner came Helen. She was obviously adjusting her dress to
get it sitting right on her body. I remembered the waiter--he had been
adjusting his clothes too, and he was a huge, muscular guy--and
absolutely gorgeous! It hit me like a bolt of lightning and I was
devastated.
"Helen! What have you been doing?" I didn't say it loud, but I'm sure
she picked up on my agitation.
"Oh, nothing," she said with put-on unconcern and she smiled. But she
looked excited and I could see the effects of the champagne.
"Helen! How could you do that?"
"Oh, loosen up! It was great! How many times will I get the chance to
wear a dress like this at my own wedding, and then sneak out and do the
dirty deed? With a total stranger and a total hunk!"
"Helen!"
"Can't you imagine it? Me, in this dress, on my wedding day, with it
hiked up to my waist, leaning forward over a table so that
hunk-of-a-waiter could give it to me good? It was deliciously wicked!"
The image jumped in my mind. The beautiful Helen and that waiter-guy.
Being bad in your wedding dress.
"Oh, come now," she added, "you have to take these opportunities if you
want to experience life to the fullest. Doing it like that..." and she
looked like she was going into a reverie.
"Helen, we've got to get back..."
"You know?" she had snapped out of her reverie and was talking to me in
a lower voice, "we could do even more! You want to do him? The waiter
and the *maid of honor!* I'll bet he'd get hard again for another
woman." I just stared at her. She was thinking again. "I know!
Imagine the bride being *licked* by the maid of honor!" I opened my
mouth in shock, but nothing came out. She looked like such a devil.
"Oh, come on, it won't be too bad...just think of the memory we'll
have!" She waited for me to say something but I was going to say "Come
back to the reception," but I couldn't get the words out.
"Oh, don't be a spoil-sport! Just pay attention," she finally said,
sounding exasperaded. Then she just stood in front of me, but all of
the sudden I realized she was trying to look sexy! To me! Her face
looked, well, hungry and her tongue licked her lips just a little. Her
hands had gone to her hips and she was slowly moving her body and her
hands were flat on her sides, sliding up her body! I still stared in
silence. She moved closer to me and her lips parted. She was going to
kiss me! I think I actually moved a little closer. "Good girl," I
heard her whisper softly. Her lips barely moved as she talked and she
still moved closer--we were just inches away.
Then I heard voices in the hall behind me and I snapped out of it.
Helen did too, and soon we were walking down the hall together back to
the reception. And that was it.
Except later that night I was in bed and thinking about things. My
hands went to my crotch and I couldn't help but rub. And my mind went
right to that moment as she drew nearer and nearer. I rubbed more.
Would we have kissed? I thought of her lifting her dress, with me
kneeling in front of her, back around the corner in that hallway. She
was so fantastic-looking in that dress. Her dress, her body. The
bride looking down at the maid of honor. I came.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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