Maid Of Honor

Jane's on the phone with her step-sister Joanna, gushing about how she gets to crash at Joanna's place now that her own shit blew up with her boyfriend. She's also the maid of honor, so she's ready to take the wedding off Joanna's hands. She hangs up smiling like butter wouldn't melt. She shows up at the house, bags in hand, hugs Joanna and immediately offers to handle every single detail. Joanna's got a wedding app on her phone and is hesitant, but Jane talks her into handing it over. Joanna's relieved—she and her fiancé Aaron are going out for one last date as an unmarried couple. The second they're gone Jane grabs that phone and starts canceling the cake, grinning like a cat with cream. When Joanna and Aaron get back, Jane's all sunshine and eagerness while Aaron's side-eyeing her hard. Joanna tells him to chill. What's the worst that could happen? Next morning Aaron's at the kitchen counter with coffee when Jane hops up beside him, perky tits barely covered, talking filthy about how he'll be thinking of her pussy when he kisses his new bride. He shuts it down, says their one-night mistake is never happening again. Joanna walks in, says she needs to grab her dress. Jane volunteers. Instead she shreds the thing in the fitting room, cackling the whole time. Later they're driving to the venue. Joanna passes out in the back seat. Jane doesn't miss a beat—whips her tits out, tells Aaron to fuck her one last time before the ring goes on. He fights it until he can't, kisses her hard, and they bolt inside the hall while Joanna's still snoring. Joanna wakes up alone, checks the phone, sees the wreckage—canceled everything, dozens of missed calls, wedding in flames. She screams. She storms to the reception hall and catches them through the window: Jane on her knees, slurping Aaron's cock like she owns it. Joanna doesn't bust in; she spins around, marches straight to the outdoor setup and trashes every table, chair, centerpiece, screaming until the whole place looks like a war zone. Sweating, chest heaving, she gets that look in her eye and heads back inside. She confronts them. Aaron stammers an apology; Jane cuts him off—says he picked her, so Joanna can deal. The sisters' eyes lock. Suddenly it's not even about him; it's about which one of them is better. They cat-fight over his dick, both stripping, both climbing on, daring each other to prove who's the tighter fuck. Aaron's caught between them, rock-hard and helpless, while they use every hole, every trick, every tattooed inch to one-up each other. By the time they're done, his load's painted both their faces and Jane's licking it off Joanna's lips. Aaron has to choose—his ruined bride-to-be or the wicked little maid of honor who just helped wreck his wedding.