"Kissing the bride is such a sexist tradition."
"You would prefer that guests just fuck the bride?" I joked.
Kimmy's reply shocked me. "You would just love that, wouldn't you Jeff?" Then she stuck her tongue out at me. "You are such a perv."
Though no prude, she was by all appearances conventional about sex. I enjoyed teasing her about the contrast between her gender liberation and her sexual conservatism. Occasionally, I hinted at the 'open marriage' lifestyle I shared with her mother, but never to explicitly. There were certain rules that Ruth, my wife, Kimmy's mom, insisted on. Not letting family know was one of them.
Like her mother, my step daughter liked to defy expectations. Ever since she was a young girl, life played by Kimmy's rules, not the other way around. Now as she her wedding approached, her mother, and her future mother-in-law, wanted to run it all. Kimmy would have none of that. So, since her biological father was again half way around the world on an oil rig, she turned to me to mediate.
My reward was watching her, now a week before the wedding, model gowns for me. The stuffy traditional model favoured by the mothers, and the low-cut backless sheer designer gown she preferred. With both of them, she wore stay up stockings and an under wire half cup bra. I was so busy bobbing my eyes from her legs to her chest I barely registered the dresses. Still, while she switched back into her casual clothes behind her half shut door, I had sensibly agreed with her choice.
When she emerged, tiny diamond glistening in her 'slut gut', I had a hard time not preferring the loveliness of her tan legs bared against the ivory hose, and her extraordinarily large but naturally firm breasts hardly needed the enhancement of the bra. 'But why,' I puzzled, 'did she want the demi-cup? What if her nipples got stiff?'
As quickly as her tongue snaked out to tease me, it hid again in her pearly white teeth, as we sat in the kitchen to await her Mom's arrival. Kimmy's full lips turned up in a tiny 'just kidding' smile. Images of that tongue tip caressing the slit of my manhood made my cock stir in my shorts. Kimmy's knee chose that moment to bump mine. Did I just imagine her hand brushing my knee?
"Which would you like better, Jeff, your turn fucking the bride, or watching everyone else do it first?"
Kimmy leaned back in her chair, away from the kitchen table. Her breasts bounced with a nineteen year old's firmness. This time her cheeks flushed, not blushed. Then, she saw an opening to put me back on the defensive.
"Like my titties, do you Jeff? I bet you wish Mom had big boobs like these. I'm lucky the women on my Dad's side gave me favorable genetics."
If she hoped to embarrass me, she turned it on herself. My semi tumescent organ surged to full erection, the tip ticking my leg at the edge of my shorts. Her nipples stiffened as she contemplated what she had just said. The red of her face deepened to scarlet. Time to cool this down or I would be in real trouble.
"Well, it's too bad your Dad isn't here to help control your mother."
"No one can control Mom, you know that. His attempts to try to control her are what split them up. You are so much smarter to treat her with respect for her independence. I respect you so much for that. Mom can be such a pain in the ass."
"Well you inherited that from her, I guess."
Kimmy shoot her tongue out from her teeth again, letting it linger a bit longer.
"So, do you fantasize about fucking brides in general, or just me?"
That question definitely gave Kimmy the upper hand. I felt my cheeks blush warmly.
"I bet you pretend it's me when you fuck Mom. Don't you, you old perv?"
I was too shell shocked to answer. My cock started shrinking from shame, but then images of how Kimmy might look naked, bent over the kitchen table, my eight inches plowing her doggy style, returned me to full erection.
"You do. I knew it. Does Mom know?"
"There's nothing to know."
"You liar."
"It's not like I've ever seen you naked. How much fun could it be fantasizing about you?"
"You mean you wish you could see these?"
Kimmy whipped her T shirt over her head, holding her arms up. Her braless breasts rose with the motion, pink nipples extended towards me.
"Kimmy, your Mom will be home any minute."
"So? I bet she'd get really wet if she came in and saw you licking my cherries."
Still, she let the shirt fall back down her body. My cock drooped as it dropped.
"There's nothing cherry about you." Renewing the banter made fresh blood surge into my cock.
"Oh, yeah, Mom's been great about letting Eric and I fuck in my bedroom. Too bad we had to wait until I was eighteen before she would allow it. My Dad would have freaked, and doing it in Eric's compact car would have sucked, so we had to wait. I'm really lucky Eric was patient."
"Did you at least blow him in the car?"
I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. Kimmy had never lived full time with us, but in the ten years I had lived with her mom, she had visited often, sometimes for extended periods, since her dad traveled to job sites often. She was not quite a daughter to me. I had never tried to be a Dad. I had never disciplined her (except in my dreams). Still, we were too close for this sort of chat. My mentioning her blowing her boyfriend created disturbing pictures in my mind. I had never seen Eric's cock naked, but judging from the bulge in his pants, it was medium length but fat. In my twisted brain, I imagined Kimmy's lush lips stretched wide, her head bobbing up and down, swallowing his cock whole, her fist pumping the shaft on the up strokes of her head, squeezing his balls on the down strokes. When I was fucking her Mom and thinking off Kimmy, it was my cock in the fantasy. Putting Eric in the picture was a new taboo. It made my cock throb harder.
"No, I never did. I told Eric that if we started down that road, either I would do something I would regret, and resent him for, or he would get really frustrated. Being older, he had lots of experience with older girls. So I just told him to get his on the side. That was Mom's idea."
