Mother of The Bride POV

I grip the phone and keep it rolling, already hating how fast my dick twitched. Krissy leans back in the hotel chair with her legs wide, robe open, pussy glistening like it wants trouble. Our daughter Kyler is by her knees, still in her wedding-white lingerie, while the bridesmaid Alison stands nearby in silk panties, both girls pink-cheeked and breathing quick. Krissy lifts a hand. “Mouth on me first,” she tells Kyler, voice calm, cocky. “Show your little buddy how it’s done.” Kyler gives me a guilty glance, then leans in and runs her tongue up Krissy’s slit in one long, flat stroke. She hums at the taste, starts licking like she can’t stop, lips sucking and sliding, soft smacking noises filling the room. Alison squirms, hands pressed between her own thighs. Krissy snaps her fingers. “You, slip those off. I want you to straddle Ky’s face when I say.” The bridesmaid peels her panties down, shy but dripping. Krissy moans, threads fingers in our daughter’s hair, and holds her right there, grinding slow on that eager tongue. When Krissy’s had enough of that angle she stands, tugging Kyler upright and turning her toward me and the lens. Kyler’s back hits Krissy’s tits, robe gone, every inch of the older woman now bare and proud. “Hands on the bed, sweetheart,” Krissy purrs, and bends our girl over the mattress. She crouches, spreads Kyler’s ass cheeks, and slurps straight onto her tight little hole. Kyler whimpers, clutching at the sheets. Krissy looks straight into my camera. “Daddy likes that, huh?” Her tongue circles the pink ring, pushes inside, fucks it for the lens while Kyler gasps and rubs back against her face. "Get closer, hubby. Let the family see who owns this wedding night." She straightens, palms spread, wet with spit. “Your turn, Alison. Sit on her face while she licks you—legs toward me. You two kiss while Daddy films the mess.” The bridesmaid climbs on, lowering a smooth, shaved cunt onto Kyler’s mouth, and the girls make out wet and sloppy. Krissy moves behind Alison, drives two fingers straight up the girl’s pussy, fucking her loud and quick until her thighs shake. “Ride her tongue, baby,” Krissy tells her, and at the same moment she shoves her other hand between Kyler’s thighs, pinching and stroking clit till our daughter sobs into Alison’s cunt. Krissy keeps the pace brutal, in and out, in and out, until both girls are trembling, mouths open, drool stringing between their lips. Only when they’re right on the edge does she pull her fingers away. She flips Kyler to her back, drags Alison down to 69 atop her. “Taste your friend,” she orders, climbing onto the bed. She sits on Kyler’s face, smothering her, and locks eyes with mine. “Stay hard, hubby. This pussy’s not yours tonight.” Krissy rides Kyler’s tongue in easy rolls of her hips, wet lips smearing over nose and chin, while the two younger girls feast on each other below. Moans turn to cries. Legs clench, hips buck, and they come in a messy staggered chain, juices running everywhere. Krissy shudders on our daughter’s face, drenches her, then lifts off smiling like she planned this the whole time. She leans down to kiss Kyler’s shining mouth, then Alison’s, then turns to me. “Keep rolling, Daddy. And don’t forget to save the footage—we might need it for the honeymoon slideshow.”