My Friend The Bride: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “Isn’t it smooth?” mused Emma, happy, wrapping her arms around herself as she spread her legs open just a little bit wider.

  “Mm hmm,” I agreed, now petting her pussy in a more methodical manner, my thumb becoming coated with the moistness from between her lips. Her tender flesh glistened in the low light of the condo, which had grown just a tad darker as the episode we were watching on television came to an end. “Oh God,” I reflected. “Your pussy is so pretty.” My finger easily glided over her, diddling her wet sweetness.

  “Will you kiss me?” said Emma innocently, opening her eyes and looking at me. Her expression indicated that I knew exactly where she wanted to be kissed. “Nobody does it like you.”

  I nodded my head, feeling buzzed on lust, and then lowered myself down between Emma’s legs as she adjusted herself, grinding her ass down against the couch. As I closed in on her beautiful fruit, I gazed into its soft hairlessness, allowing my finger to lightly prod at her and feel how smooth she really was. I noticed the slightest bit of moistness ooze out of her with a glimmer, touching it with my finger, and as I pulled it away a thin little bead stuck to my finger and stretched out like elastic.

  “Mmm, you’re driving me crazy,” sighed Emma, writhing into the blanket. “I can feel your breath.”

  I smiled to myself, happy to be in this position, and eager for more. Turning my head slightly, I lovingly pressed my lips to her lips, kissing her tender fecundity, almost immediately tasting its musky floral sweetness. Emma squirmed and moaned as I kissed her pussy, even more so when I opened my mouth and set my tongue free, lapping against her slit in slow, deft motions. There wasn’t a single prickly hair that I could feel, her heated lips velvety and damp.

  “Oh Mol’,” she called out, her hands lightly resting atop my head. She shifted her hips up, raising her legs slightly from the cushion below, while my face remained planted between her thighs.

  With a finger, I lovingly massaged her slit, moving up and down, parting her lips and searching inside while my mouth focused on her clit, kissing against her little fleshy rose. Pressing two fingers together, I penetrated her and began to slowly thrust, pushing in and pulling back in a “come hither” type motion. The humidity between her legs caused my face to lightly stick against her skin and I could feel her dampness beginning to dribble on my mouth.

  “Nobody does it like you,” she reiterated dreamily, fondling my hair between her fingers, rocking her hips softly back and forth as I ate her out. “That’s so nice,” she said. “That’s so nice.”

  Wondering if this would be my last chance between Emma’s legs, I decided to go exploring further. Removing my juicy fingers from inside of her, I carefully traced them downward, gliding over the smooth skin of her labia, over her taint, and between her cheeks underneath. With adoration, I massaged my fingertips back and forth in this area until I pressed deeper into her crack, finally landing on the little wrinkly rim of her rear. As soon as my wet fingers touched her backside she juddered and laughed.

  “That tickles,” she said coyly. I looked up to her for approval. “Don’t stop,” she said, kneading her fingers into my hair.

  As my mouth bunched up on her creamy lips, kissing, slurping, quaffing from her as though I were eating a ripe peach, I continued to massage a single moist fingertip against her ass in a slow, circular motion. Emma’s lower half bucked back and forth as I attended to her sex, a low pleasured growl emanating from her mouth. As her hips grinded, her hand still resting on my head, I could hear her faintly moan out, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

  I could feel myself growing desperately aroused as well, my own panties bunching up between my legs, riding up a bit in my crack, my thighs quivering and damp, the fabric covering my slit becoming dewy and slightly sticky. Emma’s moans were becoming chirps, syncopated with her breathing, and her hips were beginning to lift off of the couch and take my face along with them. My finger could feel all the little ridges of her rear rim, moistened now by Emma’s own fragrant juices. My heart beat furiously inside my chest, the intensity of our love growing exponentially by the second.

  “Oh!” called Emma, almost out of nowhere, suddenly kicking and squirming there under me. Her hips thrashed upward, lifting us both, and she wriggled and twisted, moans dripping from her lips. “Mol’, Mol’, Mol’,” she said in a near-chant, her face contorting and squeezed, eyes closed, mouth scrunched. I ceased petting her rear and lifted my face from her pussy, eyes turned up at her, watching her as she stumbled through her electric orgasm.

  As Emma started to settle back onto the couch, I kissed her clit a few more times, sweetly, tenderly, giving her the slightest lick, which caused her to convulse once more, squirm and giggle, happiness taking over her face. Kissing again caused a cackle from her and a tremor to course through her, her legs twisting there underneath me, and she looked positively drunken with lust.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she said quickly with a laugh, giving my hair a little tug. “Ah!” she howled along with her laughing. “Molly, Oh my God, okay!” I kissed her once more for good measure, reveling in her heavenly spice. Looking up to her, I smiled, feeling her creamy wetness beginning to slowly dry on my mouth and chin.

  “You’re right,” I said. “You are smooth.”

  “Come here!” she bellowed, raising her arms out and indicating she wanted a hug. I eagerly slid up her body and collapsed down into an embrace, the two of us hungrily kissing one another, arms wrapped, legs twisted. I could feel her heart beat against my body and it made me so happy, so fulfilled. I rubbed up against her, feeling my spirit replenish, and the two of us happily laid there cuddling, our breath falling into harmony, our love for each other solidifying.

  I wanted to freeze time right there and live in that jubilant moment for all of eternity.

  *

  Seth, standing there at the alter in his tuxedo, smiling, black hair coifed, had his eyes were locked with Emma’s. She was positively glowing, cheeks lightly blushed red, her glimmering brown hair done up in a fancy bun, an orchestrated tendril of hair twirling down on each side and framing her face. Emma looked incredible in her white dress, form-fitting at her torso and bust, a little playful at the skirt, conservative yet definitely inspired by that hippie flair. As Seth’s best man handed the priest the rings, the priest looked to the couple and spoke up.

  “May the Lord bless these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity,” he said.

  “Amen,” rang out in the church. The priest then handed the rings to Seth and Emma, each palming the ring meant for the other.

  “Emma,” began Seth. “Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Emma presented her slender hand and Seth slid the ring onto her finger.

  I could feel my heart thumping hard and I wanted so badly to scream out, to put a stop to this, to proclaim my love for Emma. But at the same time, standing up there at the alter next to my best friend and lover, I felt totally powerless. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I dabbed at them with a tissue. While most onlookers would certainly see me crying and assume that I was moved by the ceremony, it was more of an aching sadness that inspired my tears.

  “Seth,” spoke Emma lightly, a shy smile across her lips. “Take this ring,” she continued, reaching out, taking his large hand in her small hands, and began to slide the ring onto his finger. “As a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

  “For the Pope,” said the priest, as Seth and Emma held hands. “For the bishops, priests, and all the faithful, that we may be strengthened by the grace of the Holy Spirit to continue proclaiming the dignity of all human life from conception to natural death, the unique meaning of marriage, and the importance of religious liberty for all,” he said, smiling out to the audience, spreading his arms wide, his robe billowing out. “Let us pray to the Lord.”

  The priest we
nt on, the crowd chanting “amen” at the given intervals, and I stood there a few steps away from Emma feeling wrecked. I was crying, I could feel the tears moving down my cheeks. The other bridesmaids, the girls from the cottage, Meg and Krista, Rachel and Monika, they all stood beyond me, most of them crying as well, though smiling through their tears. I know I felt different than all them. I felt like I was in mourning.

  The wedding service went on — and on — and I just did what I was told, what we had rehearsed. I went into autopilot and tried to put a stopper in my brain. It was all I could do to keep myself from wailing out my pain.

  *

  “Aren’t you gonna dance?” asked Monika, her black hair twisted around and orate with beautiful braids, standing in front of the head table with a bottle of beer in her hand. She was grinning, jubilant, excited for the party. Meanwhile, I was still in my seat, swirling flat champagne around in my flute.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll get out there in a few. I’m just feeling emotional.”

  “The ceremony is the time to get emotional,” said Monika, hoisting her beer up like she was toasting me. “The reception is the time to celebrate! Woo! Oh, I love this song!” She began to dance, slowly at first, moving away from the table, and then after a moment she was gone, headed back to the dance floor.

  I know moping, especially at a wedding, is totally unbecoming but I just couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think I’d feel this way when I considered what the wedding would actually be like, but there in the moment I was definitely depressed. Somehow I had entertained the thought that maybe Emma would cancel the wedding, or at least postpone it, as she came to terms with her feelings for me. I mean, wasn’t it obvious to her? Wasn’t it clear as day that she preferred my company to Seth’s? Wasn’t it plain to see that she was a lesbian? She had sex with me the night before her wedding. That’s a red flag.

  Gazing out toward the dance floor, it was prime time for dancing and the DJ had just put on one of those coordinated line dance style songs. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were all out there, Monika dancing quite dramatically, as well as a large number of guests who also knew the dance. I was happy to be sitting. I never liked those line dances anyway.

  Just as I finished the last swig of my champagne, I felt a presence sit down next to me. Looking over, I saw Emma smiling back at me, having snuck up, her hair still masterfully done up but now wearing a second white dress, something more appropriate for the reception dance party rather than her wedding dress. She was beautiful, happiness oozing from her pores, her lips red and her teeth white. Emma was luminous.

  “C’mon,” she said, like she was leveling with me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just not feeling the party,” I said.

  “You’re moping, Mol’,” she said. “Get out there and dance. It’s my day, my rules.”

  “I’m just a bit distraught,” I said. “I’ll get over it.”

  “Do you really think it could have been different?” she asked plainly, her face hinting at a bit of pain inside of her. “Molly, you’re not dumb. You know how religious and conservative my family is.”

  “So you got married just for them?” I asked. “This is all for them?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said matter-of-factly. “Look, this is how certain peoples’ lives have to be. I know it sounds screwed up and it’s difficult to understand from your more socially liberated point of view. But you have to see life from my eyes.”

  “Enlighten me,” I said drolly.

  “Okay,” she said flatly. “My father is a state senator who has his eyes on larger political offices,” said Emma. “I come from a conservative Catholic background.” She sighed and looked off for a moment as joyful and exciting music played in the background to an accepting and indulgent crowd of guests. “Seth also comes from a connected family. It’s just, I don’t know, politically expedient for our two families to come together.”

  “So you’re saying that this is, like, an arranged marriage?” I asked.

  “Not really,” said Emma. “But it’s something that helps both of our families.”

  “But you’re barely even like your family,” I said. “You don’t believe in all that Catholic stuff. You took me for a yoni steam yesterday and you chant Buddhist prayers in your yoga classes.”

  “I’m barely like my family,” Emma admitted. “But they’re still my family, I still love them, and I still want to help them. We’re still a family.”

  “I get it,” I said with a relenting sigh. “Yeah, I understand where you’re coming from.”

  “Thank you,” said Emma, smiling at me, lowering her hand and resting it on my thigh underneath the table.

  “So is what we have just over?” I asked. “Were you just having one last little romance before getting married?”

  “Hmm,” Emma mused, looking around to see if anybody was within earshot. Leaning in closer to me, she planted a soft, sweet kiss on my cheek and spoke in a whisper. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “But you’re married,” I murmured. “I mean, we’re at your wedding and you’re saying that we can keep up what we were doing?”

  “If you can put up with the intrigue,” said Emma with a soft giggle. “Well, then we can still have fun in secret.”

  “What intrigue?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, here’s how I see things going,” said Emma, sitting up straight and searching her mind for the plot points of her life. “I’ll be moving in with Seth soon and we’ll probably start trying to get pregnant right away. Oh!” she exclaimed, suddenly getting excited. “Maybe you could be, like, a nanny for me and help out! That could keep us close.”

  “I’m a lawyer,” I said. “I didn’t go to law school to be a nanny.”

  “Okay,” said Emma, returning to her thoughts. “Well, anyway, we’ll probably have a baby relatively quick and then Seth will probably work with my father to start his own political career and that’ll take up a lot of time. My job will basically be to take care of the family. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of time, you know, without him.”

  “I need another drink,” I said, looking at my empty champagne flute.

  “We can make this work,” protested Emma. “We can still… spend time together,” she said in a lurid tone, dripping with innuendo.

  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you at your wedding,” I said, shaking my head, looking down into my lap. “You make it all sound like it’s just a matter of course.”

  “Molly,” said Emma, looking at me like I was silly. “It is. The political world that I’m from is all about appearances. I mean, everybody has their secret lives.”

  “Does your father have a secret life?” I asked.

  “That’s not for me to know,” said Emma, almost defensively.

  “I have to think about all this,” I said. “If I’m being honest with you Emma, it all feels a little too much like a movie.” She laughed heartily at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and bringing her head down against me.

  “You’re so cute,” she said, still laughing, blushing softly, radiant.

  “I feel like you’re patronizing me,” I said, still a bit unhappy by the whole conversation but slowly coming to realize what Emma was laying out to me.

  “Maybe a little,” she grinned.

  “This is a weird world,” I said.

  “It is!” said Emma, standing up now and taking my hand. “Now, will you come dance with everybody?”

  “Sure,” I said, following her lead and standing.

  “I love you, Molly,” said Emma, reaching out and wrapping her arms around me. We stood there together behind the head table and hugged for a few moments. I could feel intense warmth radiating from Emma, bliss and prosperity. I never wanted our hug to end. Yet when she pulled away and looked into my eyes I was so happy to see her face.

  “I love you,” I said softly.

  “C’mon,” said Emma, pulling me along, guiding me through the chairs, an
d leading me into the music and revelry of the night. I had a lot on my mind but with Emma’s confidence bolstering me, I knew that my problems could be addressed in the morning. I’d only get to see Emma once in a white wedding dress, so I had to make the most of it.

  *

  Emma and Seth immediately went away for their honeymoon, traipsing off to some fancy resort in the Caribbean paid for by Emma’s father, which gave me a week to stew on what Emma had told me at the wedding. I couldn’t believe how casual she was about everything. Like, of course she would be able to keep up having a lesbian affair on the side of her new marriage. Molly, you must be nuts to think that it wasn’t expected in a politically connected and religious family. Now come dance!

  It was difficult to wrestle with. On the one hand, I wanted to be with Emma. She was sweet, she was pretty, she was loving and fun. She exuded a certain indescribable positive energy. It made people want to be around her, to talk to her, to laugh with her. I’m sure you know people like her your life. You can’t put your finger on it, but you just always want to be around them whether you’re romantically interested in them or not. They have a light about them, a halo over their head, a strange aura that draws you to them. Emma was that. She was that in spades.

  The emotional part of me yearned for her. I wanted her all for myself.

  But on the other hand, I knew logically that it was an impossibility. Emma had a certain facade to uphold in her life and although I vehemently disagreed with her conforming to someone else’s standards, she was right to point out that it was hard for me to understand. Maybe impossible for me to understand. I didn’t know what it was like to grow up in a household like hers, feel the pressures to be a certain way, When I came out as a lesbian to my family, they congratulated me and told me they were happy I could finally admit it to them. I was one of the lucky ones.