A Celebratory Dinner Would Always Be Better With A Good Fucking!

Thanksgiving’s celebratory dinner always brings out the naughty in me.

The family dinner table packed with guests doesn’t seem very sexy. My boyfriend comes from a large step-family. He’s one of five, and the others are all married. Holidays at his step-parents house are nuts. So many people and lots of chaos and noise, and people running around that have come for the visit. Everyone comes. He always said he was the black sheep of the step-family, and until I saw him with his step-family I didn’t get it. Then, he invited me to Thanksgiving’s celebratory dinner. I didn’t know what to expect. They all ate in the dining room. It was a really long dining room table.

It reminded me of a conference room table it was so long. For the number of guests, it was a good thing. I’d never seen so much food prepared for a celebratory dinner on a table. It was a true feast. There were a couple of dozen people sitting at it on each side. Everything was going well, and I was eating and chit-chatting with the people across from me. All of a sudden, I froze. I felt a hand under my skirt, toying with the crotch of my panties. I looked at my boyfriend beside me and he winked at me. He couldn’t. Not here, not now. He’d be insane to try it. But try it he did. Then, I had to keep chatting away and taking bites of food as he was stroking my pussy under the table.

The celebratory dinner tablecloth was long and flowing.

No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to what was going on with us. They were too busy talking and filling their grinning clueless faces. I was already wet. Soon, his fingers moved more easily over my cunt lips and my stiff little pearl between them. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Getting my pussy off wasn’t something I’d come to Thanksgiving’s celebratory dinner expecting. Yet here I was. I spread my legs a little more to give him easier access to my pussy. His step-parents visible out of the corner of my eye. With him buried knuckles deep in my cunt. Then, I kept nervously glancing around the table to see if anyone was wise to our ways.

No one seemed to be. Then, I heard some silverware hit the floor and someone bent over in his chair to retrieve it. He gave me a knowing grin when he resurfaced. I was frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights. The hand between my legs was quickening its pace. I was barely able to speak as someone beside me was asking what I did for work. If only she knew of the hand that was about to bring me to orgasm as we conversed. He pressed my clit and ground his fingers into me, rubbing in little circles roughly. I do love a firm, even rough, touch. That was it. Then, I knew I was about to explode. Then, I bit my lip and tried to remain expressionless for the celebratory dinner. Yikes.

Then, someone asked me if I was unwell.

That I didn’t look quite right. My breathing had turned jagged. Then, I stammered it was just all the commotion and I wasn’t used to it. Then, I calmed down momentarily after my orgasm and I felt the hand withdraw. It was a unique experience and I was terrified we’d be found out. I doubted the witness would say anything. Some had said he was a drunk and no one paid him much mind. I glanced over at him. He was still grinning. It seemed we’d gotten away with our little dining room escapade. I was angry at first, but have thought back over the last year and it was exciting having that happen during the celebratory dinner.

Thanksgiving dinner is nearly here again, and I have a feeling I’m going to turn the tables on my boyfriend. I think I’m going to try and give him a hand job under the table this year. I’ll be lucky if we don’t get banished for life from his parent’s home. His step-mother’s a strict Christian. Then, she’d be certain I was going to hell. I’m so bad. But it’s fun to be bad!

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