bride Erotic Stories

I stand by the window, my back to them, and hear the rustling of silk and the clinking of thin glass behind me. Down below, the hotel bar is still buzzing with guests, someone shouting a toast, someone crying into a vest. But here, on the twenty-third floor, there are only three people and an entire night that will never be anyone else's. I know why I'm here. I know why she called me. I know he's silent not because he's against it. I turn around. She's sitting on the edge of the huge bed, still wearing her dress—white, heavy, with the corset I laced for her this morning at the hotel, before the ceremony. I remember my fingers sliding along the laces, her laughing and saying, "Don't overdo it, I need to breathe when I say 'I do.'" It was a joke then. Now I look at her, and it seems as if I'm still holding those laces in my hands. He's standing by the minibar. He's wearing a shirt, no longer a jacket, his bow tie untied and hanging a... continue reading