Jilted Bride

Aiden Ashley bursts into her bedroom still wearing the wedding dress, eyes wild, jaw tight. Her best friend August Skye follows close. Abandoned at the altar. Rage hums in every breath. “I’m done with this thing,” Aiden says, voice low and raw. August smiles, slow and knowing. “Then let’s get rid of it.” She steps forward, grabs the silk, and tears. The sound is obscene, fabric ripping under fingers that refuse to be gentle. August peels it away in strips until Aiden stands naked, chest rising fast. They collide, mouths hot, hands rougher. August pushes Aiden onto the bed and straddles her face. Aiden licks deep, grabs hips, drags her closer. Then they switch, August’s breasts smothering Aiden’s mouth, Aiden’s nipples caught between August’s teeth. Every moan pushes them harder. Aiden reaches for the strap-on, straps it tight, then bends August forward. She drives in deep, steady and sharp. The wedding garter becomes a makeshift bridle around August’s throat; Aiden uses it to pull her back onto the cock with each thrust. Sweat sticks to skin. Bodies slap. August gasps, fingers clawing sheets, begging for more. By the time Aiden comes, the anger has burned out. Only sweat and the rhythm of two friends remain.