Holy Matri-Moly!: Loose Threads

Kayley Gunner picked up the wedding dress while Vicki was at work. She tries it on—strictly out of curiosity, or at least that’s what she tells herself. Standing in front of the mirror in the strapless gown, she feels the silk hug every curve. Fantasies flash: aisle steps, pale cleavage, Vicki’s lips parted mid-vow. Kayley laughs at herself for being stupid, but her hand slides down the zipper anyway. Before she can yank it off, the front door slams—Vicki’s home early. Kayley freezes, tits pressed against pricey tulle, deer-in-headlights. Vicki stops cold, stares. “Shit,” Kayley stammers. “I didn’t mean… fucking get this thing off me.” They both grab the zipper. Skin brushes skin. Old boundaries shred the same time the silk tears. There’s a loud rip and the bodice peels open; Kayley’s bare tits spring free. The rip sound lands heavier than it should. Vicki still holds the ruined fabric. “You wear my fiancée’s dress so you can picture yourself marrying me?” Kayley swallows hard, feeling exposed, nipples tight. “Crush on you,” she admits, voice thick. “Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to lose the friendship.” Vicki curses, looks down at the shredded dress. “Shit, signs everywhere. This wedding’s cooked.” She then fixes Kayley dead-on. “Maybe we should quit bullshitting each other.” A wicked little glint hits her eye. “Let’s fuck and see if it clicks. Right now.” Kayley’s stunned, heat pooling low. Still, her reply comes quick as a glove slap: “I’m down if you’re down.” Clothes fall, the ruined dress crumples at their feet, and the real test starts hot and loud.