"Do you love it?!" My sister, Brandy, grinned excitedly behind me in the bridal shop fitting room. The pink ("blush", if you asked the saleswoman), form-fitting bridesmaid dress molded tightly to my hips and bust as I modeled for the assembled female family and friends.
At my side, my mother prodded analytically at my ribs. "Brandy, don't you think it's a little... um, snug, in... places?" She obliquely voiced her concern over the dress's sweetheart neckline as it struggled to contain my bulging tits. "Do you think maybe something with more coverage, or with straps, perhaps?" I knew my opinion was irrelevant, so I kept quiet.
The bridal consultant stepped forward. "This design is meant to enhance the decolletage of the wearer," she commented, patting the swell of my chest with alarming casualness. She looked from my boobs to Brandy's other bridesmaids: Raven, Kayleigh, and our cousin, Jane. The other three were beautiful and fit, but none of them wore more than a B-cup. Brandy, of course, had her model's build; tall, slim, and blonde. She and her pert breasts contrasted my busty redheaded form such that we almost didn't look like sisters. Only our eyes, noses, and ears matched, resemblant of our grandmother on dad's side.
With her appraisal of our group concluded, the saleswoman continued, "Ahem, some parties may not require such accentuation, but the sweetheart design is a classic in our bridesmaid lines." My sister nodded in agreement with the saleswoman while my mother made soft, concerned noises in the back of her throat, but didn't intervene further.
I turned in front of the mirror, observing the emphatic boost that the twin fabric arches gave to my already-ripe D-cups. Otherwise, the light pink fabric made my pale shoulders and arms look a little washed-out, but it was Brandy's wedding and her color scheme. I was here to be a good, obedient solider/maid-of-honor, not to raise a fuss about color palette preferences. Besides, I thought as I turned a half-circle and noted how the pink satin clung to my plump tits and round ass, I didn't think my shoulders would be what most people remembered about my appearance.
Brandy and Emiliano had met in college while she was studying abroad in Florence. She had quickly ingratiated herself to his parents and two older brothers, and probably learned more Italian arguing with them about soccer than she did in her sporadic class attendance. When she finished her program and returned home in July, he had promptly followed her to New York enrolling in an MBA program there that fall. They got engaged in May and were moving ahead promptly with plans for a summer wedding.
Just because the wedding had been planned quickly, didn't mean it was a casual affair. My mother and her sisters - starved for nuptial organizing - had immediately set about arranging a lavish black-tie event. My on-again/off-again relationship was "off" again, and I was caught flat-footed and single. Mom and Brandy said I was "allowed" to bring a friend as my plus-one, but I opted to attend stag. As I stood in the sun-filled dressing room watching my reflection in my slinky satin dress, I imagined I'd be able to find fun without a date anyway.
I didn't meet Emiliano's family until the party the night before the ceremony. At the cocktail hour as I chatted with Raven and her husband, Derrick, I spotted a tall, dark-haired stranger in a bespoke grey suit standing at the bar. The handsome newcomer noticed my staring and smiled in return.
As I gawped, Derrick nudged me with his elbow. "I think someone's checking you out..."
I tried to recover, sputtering, "Huh? No, I was just trying to figure out who that guy at the bar is..."
"No. Not him." Derrick pointed his chin towards an empty table where another man with similar dark hair and an equally exquisite suit sat quietly. He smiled and raised two fingers in a wave as he met my gaze. As we watched, the first man arrived at his table with two drinks, handing him one then taking a seat across from him.
"I wonder if those are Emiliano's brothers..." I speculated but was interrupted as Brandy and Emiliano appeared in our cluster. The happy couple stood holding hands as they started to join our chat, but Emiliano was sidetracked as he spotted the pair at the table.
"Ah! My big brothers have arrived!" He answered my question without knowing I had asked. "Come, Sarah! I will introduce you! You will love each other!" His brown eyes twinkled merrily as he grabbed my wrist and dragged both sisters across the room.
The flared skirt of my cocktail dress swept up my legs as I flew to the introduction. The "V" back of my dress, open down to my waist, didn't permit a bra, and my breasts wobbled briskly behind the navy-blue front panels as I hurried. The two men rose as we approached, hugging Emiliano and Brandy in greeting. Emiliano pulled me forward as he introduced me.
"Sarah," He pointed a hand to me then swung it towards the standing pair, "meet Luca and Niccolo."
"Nico, please. We are family." The man who had been at the bar corrected.
"È un piacere incontrarti finalmente, Sarah. Sei ancora più bella che in foto!" Luca spoke in an exaggerated Italian playboy accent as he took my hand and bowed to kiss it. I didn't speak Italian, but between my cooking show vocabulary, Luca's mannerisms, and the embarrassed reaction of the others, I grasped the exaggerated flattery.
Nico swatted his brother's shoulder. "Knock it off, you creep." He chided, then turned to me. "He is not a, uh, tomcat and he does speak English."
Luca released my hand, then dramatically rubbed the spot on his arm where he'd been struck by his younger brother. "That is true." He admitted. "But it is truly a pleasure. We have deeply wanted to meet you since seeing your picture." Without the theatrics, Luca's voice was smooth and smoky, slightly deeper than Nico's. Both of their voices carried only a tinge of accent when speaking English, conspicuous only with an off 'th', or with an occasional misplaced stress on a syllable.
Emiliano and Brandy hastily waved goodbye as they were called away to greet more relatives. Luca insistently pulled out a chair for me between himself and his brother.
"It's wonderful to meet you both as well. I've heard so much about you from Emiliano!" I said as I took my offered seat. On either side, the tall, brunette men pulled their chairs close alongside my legs, each leaning forward and listening intently as I spoke.
"I hope only good." Luca cheerfully interjected, and I honestly confirmed that all I had heard about them was positive.
We talked endlessly throughout the party, our own intimate island in a sea of white noise. Luca was one year older than Nico, who was in turn three years older than Emiliano, and the three of them were extremely close. The three brothers were in fact so close that Emiliano, as the first to be married, had only selected Nico as his best man by drawing a name from a hat; assignments had then been set for the two future, hypothetical weddings.
I listened raptly as they discussed their lives. Each of the brothers had attended boarding school in England and college in the United States, hence their near-perfect English. Honestly, I would have listened attentively to them reading the phonebook. Every mellow word seemed to tremble directly through my ear into my neocortex, dumping thrilling doses of dopamine that flipped in my excited belly. I was captivated by their good looks and polished charm.
The brothers were equally attentive - and flirty - when I answered their questions about my career and life. "No boyfriend?" Nico repeated. I shook my head 'no' without caveat. "What? Insane! Why?!" He winced after what I gathered was an under-the-table kick from Luca at the impolite question.
"Sarah is a liberated American woman, Nico," Luca placed his hand low on my bare spine. My skin tingled warmly beneath his palm. I laughed in agreement with his words to cover the stir his hand was causing.
"She really looks American, no?" Nico asserted. I cocked my head curiously, and he rushed to clarify what he intended as a compliment. "No, that is good!" he straightened in his chair and grabbed my hand insistently, clasping our fingers together. Luca's hand brushed softly on my bare back. My heartrate rocketed at the marvelous attention. Nico continued, "You see, Brandy, she is beautiful, yes. She looks like any Euro girl; Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, whatever, she looks like them all."
I nodded slowly. Luca softly stroked his thumb along my vertebrae, tickling my spine. His fingers rubbed sensuously into the smooth flesh of my lower back. I had to choke down a pleasured moan at his touch while Nico elaborated.
"But you," he released my hands for a second as he outlined a circle around my head and abdomen, but his eyes were locked on the plunging V-neck of my dress. "A man sees you; he knows that is an American knockout!" I blushed deep crimson. My heart thundered explosively behind my ribs. My tongue nervously darted out to wet my dry lips.
Nico's fingers playfully intertwined with my own. His other hand reached under the table and began to tease a light out-and-back line on my silky inner thigh. Luca's hand reached the base of my spine, coyly dipping beneath the band of my dress and flirtily plucking the crenated lace waistband of my thong. Excited pins of moisture beaded between the shaved lips of my pussy.
Neither man's expression betrayed their seductive touching, and their slack faces further enflamed my lust. I wanted to squirm in my arousal but held stubbornly still under their tormenting fingers. My mind lapsed and libido raced, as I lost myself in the sensation of the strangers' captivating touch.
"Sarah!" I clenched my eyes shut at the frustrating sound of my mother's call. "Sarah! Come help your aunts pack gifts into Cheryl's van!" My lust screeched to a halt in a devastating derailment. I couldn't believe that I'd been cockblocked like this by my mother!
With a defeated groan, I brushed Nico's hand from my thigh and stood, staggering my first step as I disentangled myself from the chair and my suitors' arms. "It's been wonderful, um, meeting you..."
