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I can’t believe I’m watching my own brother’s girlfriend strut around in that pristine white wedding dress, knowing damn well she’s about to become my personal slut. The fabric clings to her curves like a second skin, and every time she bends over to pick up a fallen veil, I catch a glimpse of the wetness pooling between her thighs. She knows I’m watching, the bitch. She’s been teasing me all day, brushing against me, whispering dirty promises in my ear while my brother’s in the other room.

Now she’s on her knees in front of me, that dress bunched up around her waist, her mouth wrapped around my cock like she’s been starving for it. I grab a handful of her hair and fuck her throat, watching her eyes water as she gags. The wedding dress is getting ruined, stained with my precum and her drool, but she doesn’t care. She moans around my shaft, her fingers working her own clit, desperate to cum. I pull out and slap her face with my cock, telling her to beg for it. She whimpers, ‘Please, I need your cum all over this dress. Mark me as yours.’

I shove her onto the floor, lift that dress over her head, and bury my face between her legs. She tastes like heaven and sin, and I eat her out until she’s screaming my name, her cum dripping down my chin. Then I flip her over, mount her from behind, and pound into her tight cunt. The wedding dress is just a crumpled heap beneath us, a symbol of the betrayal we’re committing. I cum deep inside her, filling her up, and she collapses, panting. When my brother walks in later, she’ll just smile and say she’s ready for the wedding. But we both know the truth—she’s already been claimed.