And I appreciated how nice he was to everyone, polite, friendly, even though my elderly Aunt Mildred was currently monopolizing his company, chatting non-stop about who knows what. So when we finally sat down to brunch, I rewarded him with a sweet smile.
“Thanks for being so game,” I murmured, pointedly looking at the third glass of eggnog in his big palm. “The Smiths driving you crazy?”
The big man shot me a glance.
“The Smiths always drive me crazy,” he rumbled, “but honey, I’m here for you.”
And I flushed then, taking a chair next to his at the big table. It was an amazing feeling, I loved how he made me feel special, wanted, going that extra mile for me, subjecting himself to the raucous noise, the eccentricities of the Smith clan. And my parents didn’t let me down at brunch either. Instead of eating a meal like a normal group, the lights went low and suddenly a projector flickered to life.
“We’re gonna look at some vacation slides!” crowed my dad. “Trish and I went to Aruba last year, thought you folks might like to see what we did.”
Quite a few of my relatives grumbled, bored. Why the hell were we doing this now, of all times? People were hungry, they wanted to eat, there was a Christmas ham steaming on the table as well as turkey, yams, creamed spinach, all the trimmings. But at least my dad wasn’t completely tone deaf, he made one concession.
“No need to wait before starting,” he said airily. “We’ve got three hundred slides to get through, so bon appetit! Go ahead and load up your plates while I cue this baby up.”
And sure enough, my relatives were like locusts descending upon the food. There were all sorts of smacking sounds as people heaped their plates full, almost fighting over some of the food, the candied sweet potatoes, the special blueberry pie that my mom baked each year.
And as we settled down to eat in the darkness, my dad’s voice started up, droning on and on.
“And this is a black grouper,” his disembodied voice called out. “Trish and I saw this one while snorkeling not too far from shore one day, she almost drowned but then this looker swam along …”
And I sighed. God, three hundred slides of countless underwater pics, photo after photo of coral reefs, fish that all looked the same, my parents’ white, flabby bodies in their comical swimsuits. But just as I was about to go back to eating, a brush came on my knee. At first I figured it was nothing, merely the tablecloth moving.
But then it came again, this time more insistent and I turned my head quickly to look at Pete. I couldn’t see anything but his profile in the darkened room, but his nostrils were definitely flaring, a slight smile playing at his lips. And I melted inside, going hot immediately. Oh god, oh god, were we really doing this? Naughty games, right here, right now? But you know what? Two can play at this game and I wanted in on the fun.
So putting my plate down quietly, I slid a hand into his lap under the table and slowly traced a nail up and down the bulge in his pants. Oh yeah, hard and huge, just like I knew it’d be. In fact, the curve was unmistakable, Mr. Parker was more than a little turned on, he was ready to go, ready to party. His breath started coming fast, audible only to me because I was so close, so near to that masculine frame. But this man was a champion and he wasn’t giving up so easily. Reaching down with stealthy fingers, the big man unzipped himself in one swift movement, and holy shit, but his cock popped out, visible only to me in the dim light. Oh god, that shaft was pulsing, I could see just the thick root before it disappeared under the table cloth, veins coursing hotly, fully erect and ready for me, in whichever way, shape or form.
And the big man smirked then.
“Your turn baby girl,” he whispered in my ear, leaning close on the pretense of serving himself some spinach.
I looked around. Was this really happening? Right here in my parents’ house? In public, as we sat at the big table eating brunch with a bunch of my relatives? I don’t mean to sound like a prude, but there was literally a person five inches to my left and another person five inches to Pete’s right, and yet he’d just unzipped and let out his cock, daring me to play with it.
And oh god, I wanted to fuck him. I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t back down in this game of chicken, wasn’t ready to veer and avoid collision just yet. So squirming slightly in my chair, I reached under my skirt and managed to hook the elastic of my panties in my fingers. Slowly, so slowly, I drew them over my hips, knowing that Pete was aware of my every move even though he didn’t look my way, breathing growing harsh as I upped the ante. Oh yeah, I wasn’t gonna let him win our dirty little game, I wasn’t giving up so soon. With another tiny twist of my hips, I lifted my butt for a moment and pulled the panties over my ass, slowly worming them down my thick thighs before they dropped down to my ankles. And on the pretense of picking my napkin up from the floor, I got those panties off, reappearing with the scrap of pink in my hand, passing them to him under the table.