The Bride's Special

Chris held her close and thrust into her from below. Zoe teased her purposefully, playing with her sphincter, and kissed her back to do so, licking her buttocks, sniffing, nibbling.

Then the tongue penetrated deeper. And took the place of the finger, pressed into her crack.

Mariella erupted.

White clouds swirled up, an airy firework of the sounds from her throat and the images and colors in her head. A fairy touched her with the tip of her wand. A soundless explosion blew her into tiny fragments and flung her high, into the stratosphere. There she dispersed, shimmering and sparkling as a rainbow, all over the world.

The following hours she experienced as intensely and as directly as nothing before in her life. But the events flowed through her without leaving any traces behind. Only a few disjointed images and impressions remained stuck in her head.

...she lay down, Chris on top of her. He fucked her with long hard strokes, his eyes dark with lust....

...someone licked her shaved pussy and gently bit into the labia...

...Chris and Zoe did it slowly and tightly entwined. She rested next to it, thereby, the sounding board of their arousal...

...she sucked away on a intensely sex-tasting cock, playing with the tip of her tongue around the slit at the tip....

...on her knees, a familiar organ invaded her from behind. A dark body beneath her, reversed. She bathed her tongue in spicy sweetness....

...three bodies, intertwined. Mingled smells, interwoven sensations....

...another climax, soft and heavy, a majestic roller out on the endless ocean...

...eyes the color of obsidian, looking through her as if she were made of glass....

An eternity or two passed like that.

"Do you know now?" Zoe's lips at her ear, the tip of her titillating tongue in it. "Do you feel it? Can you feel yourself?"

"Yes..."

The candles had burned down. Only two or three were still flickering. Marielle sighed happily and snuggled closer to the warm body next to her. Dried sweat itched on her skin.

"Do you need the wedding dress?"

"No."

It was no longer a question, no longer a deliberation, but an irrevocable certainty. The No came from deep down, straight from her innermost core.

Zoe growled in agreement and continued to lick her ear.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Mariella yawned unwillingly. Zoe's words had reminded her of the birthday party from which she was only a few hours away. It disturbed her aloof mood.

Then an image formed in her mind's eye, all by itself. She giggled and asked, "Zoe? Do you have a camera in the house, or a cell phone with a good cam? I guess I'll have to ask you one last favor in the morning..."

***

"Ah, Mrs. van Aberstein! How nice that you could come!"

Lydia Thompson squeezed the elderly lady's hand and beamed graciously at her and her senile-looking husband. It was shortly before twelve o'clock. Almost all the guests had already arrived and were standing around chatting, a champagne glass or canapés in their hands. Lydia smiled greetings into the circle and hid the hot ball of anger, resentment and worry in her voluminous belly.

"Stefanie and Johnny don't know where Marielle is either."

Robert, who would be her son-in-law in six weeks, had quietly stepped behind her and put away his cell phone. He covered his frustration and apprehension less routinely than the woman.

Marielle had not come home. Not the whole night! Such a thing had never happened before. They didn't even know exactly where she had gone so late last night. She had turned off the cell phone and so far had not responded to the dozen voicemails he had left for her. Neither to the concerned ones, nor the angry ones, nor the reproachful ones.

"What do we do?" he asked wanly.

"We'll say she's indisposed. She wouldn't be well today." Lydia smiled icily.

"But this sounds like she's pregnant."

"Right. It'll give everyone something to talk about." She brushed him with a skeptical sideways glance. "It also wouldn't be a bad thing if the grandchildren didn't just remain a rumor, but you actually produce some in the nearer future."

That silenced him.

"Are you Robert Martinson?"

In front of them suddenly stood a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Torn jeans, hanging low between his knees, a screamingly colorful T-shirt, baseball cap. Among all the dark suits and costumes, he looked like a flashing neon advertisement in the midst of a funeral congregation.

"And who are you?", Lydia harangued him. How had this kid gotten on the premises?

"I'm Chips." He grinned irreverently at her. "I'm supposed to give him this, the lady said."

Robert was handed an envelope.

"Wait a minute, you..."

But Chips had already disappeared. Robert and Lydia looked at each other with wide eyes. The son-in-law ripped open the envelope and shook out a large-format photograph in black and white.

He froze.

"What's going on? Has she been kidnapped? Is she..."

Lydia had snatched the picture from his fingers and abruptly fell silent. The picture showed Marielle. Naked, as she crouched in an unambiguous position on a man, of whom only the body was visible. A second woman, also pictured without a head, snuggled up to her daughter from behind and had her hands wrapped around her body in a provocative pose. Marielle looked directly into the camera with a luminous gaze. Her eyes revealed an ecstasy, an openness, an intensity that neither of them had ever experienced with her.

"I'm sorry, Robert. I'm looking for different things than you do," Marielle had scrawled in her roundish handwriting in a corner with a felt-tip pen.

Underneath: "You can unload the guests, Mother. I'm going on vacation to France for a few months. Back in November. Or maybe not.

P.S. I've already paid for the wedding dress."

THE END

(c) 2022 Dingo666