Gal Ritchie is shitting bricks right before she walks down the aisle. Maddie Wren clocks it, cracks her knuckles, and steps in like a pro—ten fingers digging into those tense shoulders. The bride groans as the knots give way. Then Maddie drops low, yanks off the satin heels, and goes to work on the feet. Warm hands slide up Gal’s calves, thumbs pressing deep, and something flips. A shot of heat hits Gal right between the legs. She bites her lip, spreads them a little wider. “You could put that magic on something else, you know,” she says, voice low. Maddie pauses, smile crooked. “Like what?” “Like my pussy.” Maddie’s eyebrows jump, but only for a second. Then that devil-may-care grin locks in. Best friend’s big day? She’ll fuck the nerves right out of her. Hands push the bridal gown up past silk thigh-highs. Maddie’s tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe across Gal’s already soaked cunt—lips sealing around the clit, sucking hard while two fingers slide in deep and start pumping. Gal’s thighs shake. She grabs the edge of the vanity, hips bucking to meet every thrust. Maddie’s sucking noisier now, fingers curling just right until Gal’s moaning loud enough the usher outside might hear. She comes quick and hard, cunt clenching around those fingers, slick dripping down Maddie’s wrist. But Maddie isn’t done. She flips Gal onto the chaise, yanks the dress higher, and straddles her face—pushing that hot, dripping pussy down on Gal’s eager tongue. Gal licks like she’s starving, tongue flicking Maddie’s clit with each sloppy stroke. Maddie grinds, riding that mouth until she’s gasping, thighs locked, orgasm crashing through her with a guttural “Fuck, yeah.” They come up grinning, cheeks flushed, lipstick smeared. Nerves? Gone. Wedding? Still happening. Only now Gal’s walking down the aisle with a very satisfied, very wet secret between her legs.
Gal Ritchie is shitting bricks right before she walks down the aisle. Maddie Wren clocks it, cracks her knuckles, and steps in like a pro—ten fingers digging into those tense shoulders. The bride groans as the knots give way. Then Maddie drops low, yanks off the satin heels, and goes to work on the feet. Warm hands slide up Gal’s calves, thumbs pressing deep, and something flips. A shot of heat hits Gal right between the legs. She bites her lip, spreads them a little wider. “You could put that magic on something else, you know,” she says, voice low. Maddie pauses, smile crooked. “Like what?” “Like my pussy.” Maddie’s eyebrows jump, but only for a second. Then that devil-may-care grin locks in. Best friend’s big day? She’ll fuck the nerves right out of her. Hands push the bridal gown up past silk thigh-highs. Maddie’s tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe across Gal’s already soaked cunt—lips sealing around the clit, sucking hard while two fingers slide in deep and start pumping. Gal’s thighs shake. She grabs the edge of the vanity, hips bucking to meet every thrust. Maddie’s sucking noisier now, fingers curling just right until Gal’s moaning loud enough the usher outside might hear. She comes quick and hard, cunt clenching around those fingers, slick dripping down Maddie’s wrist. But Maddie isn’t done. She flips Gal onto the chaise, yanks the dress higher, and straddles her face—pushing that hot, dripping pussy down on Gal’s eager tongue. Gal licks like she’s starving, tongue flicking Maddie’s clit with each sloppy stroke. Maddie grinds, riding that mouth until she’s gasping, thighs locked, orgasm crashing through her with a guttural “Fuck, yeah.” They come up grinning, cheeks flushed, lipstick smeared. Nerves? Gone. Wedding? Still happening. Only now Gal’s walking down the aisle with a very satisfied, very wet secret between her legs.
