Shape

Maid of Honor and the Bride

Valerie is having a meltdown. Today is her wedding day, and guests are at this moment making their way to the grassy lawn outside, finding their seats, and looking with expectation at the altar, decorated with pink and white roses. Meanwhile, Valerie is having a crying fit upstairs in the large Victorian-style venue she’d rented for her big day and, as her maid of honor, I’m obliged to be locked in this room with her, trying to calm her down, assuring her she’s not making the biggest mistake of her life.

I knew the duties that come with being a maid in honor, and I was honored to be asked. Thrilled, actually. Valerie’s been my best friend since we were girls, but we’d drifted apart when we reached our mid-twenties. She’d started seriously dating Matt, the man she’s marrying today—ostensibly—while I’d been busy sleeping around with men and women indiscriminately, uninterested in promising anything to one person other than my promise to wait for him to put his shoes on and call an Uber. I’d always assumed Valerie thought I was a slut, so I kept my distance. She was always the pretty one, the sensible one. I was the one who got fired from Macy’s after being caught banging the cleaning lady in home furnishings. I didn’t fit into the perfect and wholesome life Valerie was making for herself.

So when she invited me out for a drink at the Ace of Spaces bar last summer, I thought she was going to cut off all ties for good. Instead, she asked me to be maid of honor at her and Matt’s wedding. I jumped up from the table and shouted and cried so loud that everyone in the bar turned and stared at us. I fell into Valerie’s arms and sobbed and said of course, of course, of course.

Which brings us to this garishly decorated bedroom in this wedding venue in the suburbs, with 60 or so family and friends outside, and Valerie’s makeup streaking miserably down her face. She’s all zipped up in her wedding dress—a beautiful, white, embroidered dress, with thin straps over her shoulders and a V-neck that shows just the top of her adorable cleavage. Since we were girls, Valerie’s had adorable breasts, while my own tits are large, heavy, and at the moment threatening to explode out of this too-small bridesmaid dress. But that’s not my concern right now. My only concern is calming Valerie down and getting her cleaned up for the ceremony. And my time for doing so is getting shorter by the minute.

“Valerie, sweetie,” I say. “You can do this. You got this, girl.”

“Why am I doing this?” Valerie says with a sob. “Who said I wanted this?”

“You did,” I say. “You always have. Ever since we were in, like, middle school you’ve talked about meeting Mr. Right and getting married and having tons of babies. And here you are! You met him and you love him and you’re wearing an expensive wedding dress and your entire goddamn family has flown in from Wisconsin or wherever and your lovely husband-to-be is right now standing outside in the sun in a tuxedo, waiting on his beautiful blushing bride.”

Valerie throws her face into her hands and bawls. “What have I done, Candace?” she says. “I’m not ready for this.”

I stand up from my chair and sit next to her on the oversized bed (provided at an additional price for overnight guests). I put my arm around Valerie’s shoulders and rest my head atop her head.

“Babe, I know you’re frightened,” I say. “But you won’t ever be more ready for this than you are today. This is your moment, Val. Matt’s a good dude and he loves you like crazy. You look beautiful and he looks handsome and you two are going to be happy together and have beautiful little genius babies that will grow up and, like, cure cancer or something.”

I think I hear Valerie chuckle quietly into her hands.

“What’s that?” I ask. “Was that a laugh?”

“Stop it, Candace,” Valerie says. “I mean, I know you’re just doing what you’re supposed to do but cut it out. I’m serious. Just get me out of this.”

“For fuck’s sake, Val,” I say, sitting up straight. “Stop being such a baby. You don’t even know how lucky you are. How lucky you’ve always been. You’ve always been the pretty one with the perfect grades and the perfect body. And now you’re about to get married to Mr. Wonderful? Cry me a fucking river, Val.”

“You don’t get it,” Valerie says, turning to look at me. “Matt is my first serious boyfriend. I’ve only been with, like, two guys before him, and neither of them were particularly—you know, memorable. And now I’m going to marry my high school sweetheart? I love Matt with all my heart, honest. He’s the best. He has given everything to me. Everything but an orgasm.”

“Hold up,” I say. “You mean to tell me—”

“Yes, Candace,” Valerie says. “I’m a 25-year-old woman and no one has ever made me cum.”

At this moment comes a knock on the door.

“Hello?” says a man’s voice I recognize as Trevor, the groom’s older brother. “Everything OK in there?”

“Yes,” I say. “We’re just having a—uh, makeup malfunction. We’ll be out in a jiff.”

There’s a brief hesitation, followed by footsteps retreating. Valerie and I stare at the locked door for a moment, then turn back to each other.

“Oh sweetie,” I say. “I had no idea.”

Valerie sighs. “I just think about what experiences I’ve missed. What experiences I will miss. You’ve always been so free, Candace. You do whatever the fuck you want and fuck whoever the fuck you want. I’ve always envied that about you.”

I almost choke. “You’ve what? Envied me? Are you being serious right now? Babe, I’d always thought you were embarrassed of me—of my, you know, promiscuousness.”

“Embarrassed?” Valerie says, and her eyes open wide. “No, not at all. The opposite! I shouldn’t be telling you this, especially now, but I’ve always fantasized about living your life. Going out to clubs, getting invited to parties, getting men to worship you.”

I laugh out loud. “Worship? Oh, trust me, sweetie, I’ve had men—and women, I’ll have you know—do a lot of things to me, but worship is certainly not one of those things.”

Valerie smiles. It’s nice to see her smile. Even with her eye shadow streaked in long rivulets down her face, she’s so beautiful. She looks like the Madonna. The mother of Jesus, I mean, not the singer, but she’s hot too.

Valerie drops her head onto my shoulder. I put my arm around her, rubbing her shoulders. “You’re going to be OK, sweetie,” I say. “I promise.”

“Thank you, Candy,” Valerie says. “For dealing with me, for calling me out on my shit, for helping me through this.”

“As your maid of honor,” I say, “I’m pretty sure that’s my job. But also as your best friend. I love you, baby girl.”

Valerie lifts her head slightly and fixes me with her wet, blue eyes. She blinks away a few tears, and she seems so vulnerable, so lovely, that for some reason I find myself taking her cheek in my hand, lifting her face delicately, and kissing her lips. Rather than pull away in shocked indignation, as I expect her to, she accepts my kiss, and then begins to kiss me more deeply. I feel her lips opening, and now my lips are opening, and soon our tongues are seeking each other, both of us breathing heavily.

Our hands are suddenly all over each other, reaching for each other’s bodies, grasping for each other, grabbing handfuls of hair. I push Valerie back onto the bed and straddle her while kissing her up and down her neck. Valerie reaches around my back and undoes the zipper, which comes as a relief because my tits had for hours been uncomfortably constrained by this dress. I lift the dress over my head, quickly undo my bra, and my girls come bounding out as if starved for air. Valerie’s eyes widen.

“Oh, Candace,” she says. “Your tits.”

I laugh. “Yeah. I suppose they’ve grown a bit since we were girls.”

“They’re beautiful,” Valerie breathes.

I take Valerie’s hands and place them on my tits. I stare into her eyes as she caresses my tits, and then I bend forward and put them in her mouth. She works her tongue all over me, gently sucking on each of my nipples. I grab fistfuls of Valerie’s dress and lift it up from the bottom, until her dress is pulled up just above her thighs. My hand drifts up between her legs and I discover how wet her panties are. I yank her panties down and off her ankles. I look into her eyes.

“Do you trust me, Val?” I ask.

“Yes, Candy,” she says. “I trust you.”

I plant a kiss on her lips, then I slide down off the bed until I’m on my knees. I lift her dress over my head and begin to kiss the inside of her thighs. I can hear her muffled moaning above me, through the fabric of her wedding dress. I kiss her thighs higher and higher, and when I come to only an inch from her pussy there’s another knock on the door. My heart stops.

“Hello?” comes a man’s voice I don’t recognize. “Valerie? Candace? Are you in there?”

The man tries to turn the doorknob, but we’d mercifully thought to lock the door earlier. I can only imagine.

“Hi, Daddy,” Valerie says, brightly. “We’re in here. I’m having a—um, wardrobe issue? Can you give us a minute?”

“OK, sure,” the man says. “But everyone is here and we’re waiting for you. Do you need any assistance with anything?”

I can’t help myself. I lick Valerie’s pussy. She lets out a gasp.

“Ohh,” she breathes. “Fuck. No, I’m OK, Daddy. I’ll—We’ll be out in a minute, thanks.”

I wait a moment until I hear the man’s footsteps receding down the hall, and then I bury my face between Valerie’s legs, sucking greedily on her pussy. She squeezes her thighs against my head, and I can hear her stuff a pillow over her mouth to stifle her moans. I spread her labia, suck on her clit, slide a finger deep inside her, and rub her pussy all over my face until I am drenched with my best friend’s wetness. I slip another finger inside her and slide my fingers in and out of her while I suck on her clit. I can hear her moan and whimper. I grab her ass with both my hands and pull her harder into my mouth.

“Val, sweetie,” I say. “Fuck, you taste good.”

“Candy,” she says. “Oh god, oh god.”

I suck on her pussy gently, then harder, then gently again. I slide my fingers inside her slowly, then begin to pound her with two fingers while sucking on her clit. I hear her breathing deeper and faster into the pillow. Her legs begin to shake.

“Don’t stop,” she says. “Please don’t stop. I think I’m—I think I’m going to—”

“Yes, sweetie,” I say. “Do it. Cum for me, Val.”

I flick my tongue against Valerie’s clit and slide two fingers into her as far as they’ll reach. Val’s whole body is shaking as if a surge is running through her, and soon she lets out a very long, throaty, half-sob half-purr, which is only partially stifled by the pillow. My mouth is dripping with Valerie’s wetness. I savor the taste for a moment before wiping my mouth with her wedding dress.

I emerge from underneath Valerie’s dress and climb up onto the bed next to her. She’s still panting hard with the pillow over her face. I take the pillow away and kiss her lips.

“You did great, sweetie,” I say. “I’m so happy I got to do that for you.”

“That was—that was fucking amazing”, Valerie says between breaths. “So that’s what that’s like.”

“More or less,” I say.

Valerie turns her head and kisses me. “I love you, Candy,” she says.

“As your maid of honor,” I say, “it is my duty. But also as your best friend. I love you, baby girl. Now let’s go out there and get married!”

Valerie stands up, slides her panties back on, and reapplies her makeup. I pick up my clothes from the floor and squeeze my girls back into the dress. When we’ve made ourselves sufficiently presentable, Valerie turns to look at me.

“Next time,” she says. “I get to do that to you.”

“Oh, I know,” I say and wink. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

We laugh and kiss one more time. I unlock the door. We smile, lift our heads up high, and hold hands as we walk outside to join the ceremony.