Holy Matri-Moly: Stuck With Bad Luck

Lacy Lennon waits in her robe, ring box in hand, counting on Olive Glass to pull off one smooth hand-off. Olive passes it over and disappears to wash up. Alone, Lacy pries the box open and the ring slips free. It skitters under the couch before she can grab it. She drops to her knees, reaches beneath the frame, and the robe slides open, baring everything behind her. Olive returns to the view of Lacy’s bare ass and pussy framed by the couch. She smiles, steps closer, and runs a palm over the curve of one cheek. Lacy jerks, startled. Olive’s fingers linger, tracing the crease where ass meets thigh, then dip lower to brush Lacy’s lips. Lacy sucks in a breath. “Want me to pull you out?” Olive asks, voice low. “We can have a little fun first.” Lacy mutters something half protest, half invitation. Olive takes it as permission. She kneels behind the stuck bride-to-be, spreads her, and sinks two fingers straight into her cunt. Lacy gasps, hips twitching. Olive pumps slowly, then curls, knuckles brushing inside while her thumb circles Lacy’s clit. Juice coats her fingers, slick and warm. Lacy rocks as much as the couch allows, grinding back onto Olive’s hand. The redhead adds another finger and starts a steady thrust, each push nudging Lacy’s ass higher. With her free hand she spreads Lacy wider, thumb pressing the tight ring of her asshole, not pushing in yet, just teasing the nerves. Lacy moans, every worry about caterers and seating charts dissolving under the wet slap of fingers working her open. Olive keeps her pinned, fucking her with a sure rhythm until Lacy’s thighs shake and her moans turn ragged. The ring box lies forgotten. For the first time in weeks, Lacy feels nothing but the stretch and the heat, the couch creaking softly above her as Olive gives her exactly what she didn’t know she needed.