LesFan

Lesbian Fan Social Network

    Fan Fiction

    This story has been set to a rating of . Age verification is required to proceed.

    Age Verification

    I am years of age as of today, May 5, 2024

    Enter your current age into the field provide above. Stories with a rating of R or NC-17 may contain material not suitable for children. LesFan requires that all individuals wishing to read these stories confirm they are of at least 17 years of age. LesFan uses the MPAA rating labeling system for all stories.

    LesFan will also make a best attempt to filter profane words in stories that are not rated R or NC-17 unless the individual confirms they are of at least 17 years of age.

    LesFan uses the following rating scale for stories.






    Submit

    The Wedding… – (Chapter: Something Borrowed…)

    Story written on September 12, 2007 by goaskalice.
     Login to add story to favorites
     Login to add author to favorites
    0 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 50 votes, average: 0.00 out of 5 (0 votes, average: 0.00 out of 5)
    You need to be a registered member to rate this post.     Loading ... Loading ...
    Genre(s): N/A
    Rating: N/A
    fanfiction(s):
    Character(s): N/A
    Number of Comments: 14
    Words: 1180
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=11271
    Author Notes:

    Sort of falling…

     

     

    It was late when I finally returned to the Carlin residence. I looked first to see if Spencer’s room was dark and it was, signaling that I would now have to drunkenly make my way up the stairs and into bed as quietly as possible. After today, the last thing I wanted to do was wake her up and thus endure several painful minutes of awkward fighting.

    Carmen’s brother had retrieved us from the reception. Needless to say, we were both too shit-faced to drive, though I was tempted. There would be something symbolic about careening off the side of a cliff in Carmen’s car. Perhaps we could pull a “Thelma and Louise” and go as far as to hold hands, both wishing we were someone else. Somewhere with Spencer Carlin.

    I rang the doorbell, forgetting in all my drunken, suicidal, cinematic glory that Spencer was the only one home.

    “Shit!” I whispered.

    Now I had no choice but to talk to her…to say something stupid…to blame everyone but myself. I thought so long and so hard about all the stupid things I was destined to say that I didn’t even notice that the door was still closed.

    “Fuck.”

    I turned the doorknob, hoping for a miracle. And I was suddenly very aware of how religious this weekend had made me. Maybe that’s why my new friend, God, had listened. The door swung open and I was in the clear. God was good.

    I made my way up the stairs—only tripping once—and opened Spencer’s door. That very same streetlight from last night was working its magic again. Her features were bathed in incomparable luminescence, rendering me a puddle of want and adoration.

    I clumsily slipped off my dress, not even bothering to grab my Giants shirt. Instead I crawled into bed beside Spencer, resisting the urge to mold my partially naked body against hers. And unlike the night before, sleep came easy.

     

     

     

    Hands.

    On my face.

    My hands?

    No. That would feel different…

    Whose hands?

    My hands?

    I’m never actually coherent when I first wake up, but considering the fact that I was still sprinkled with the remnants of a night of booze and wedding cake, I was lucky to know my own name. Attempting to figure out where this sudden extra pair of hands was coming from was going to take a moment or three.

    Page 1 of 212
    «
    FF Main Page
    »

    Comments

    Leave a Reply