The Family Feast

I want thank, so very much, for all her precious time, and quick turn-over rate, Anekri. She's been a wonderful editor, and I hope she'll do more of my stories in the future. Thanks, Anekri!

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Faking sick hadn't ever been hard, and it wasn't because her parents were gullible. It was probably because she was such a stupendous actress. All right, it was because her parents were a little on the manipulated side. But Camille was accustomed to faking sick so she could stay home from school or work, not to miss out on one of her family's dinners. She loved her family dearly, and enjoyed sitting around a big table, talking and debating, catching up on all the things that had happened between visits.

"Do you want me to bring you up some dinner after we've finished eating, baby girl?" Her father's big, comforting hand smoothed over her brow, sweeping her bangs back from her clear green eyes, which were heavily lidded and fringed with thick black lashes.

"No thanks, Daddy, my tummy hurts too much to really think about eating." A hand fluttered down her pink and white comforter, caressing her own tummy through the plush fabric, as if to try to soothe away the ache that twisted low in her abdomen.

"I guess it would be fairly rude if I kicked Nathan out just before dinner, huh?"

Aghast, Camille lightly smacked her father's arm, "Daddy! That would be beyond rude. You'd make my boyfriend think you didn't like him. And now you can get to know him better." With a teasing roll of green eyes that matched his daughter's, Michael rose from where he was perched on the edge of his sick child's bed.

"You know I wouldn't do that. You get some rest, and I'll go entertain Nathan in your absence."

The moment her bedroom door clicked closed, Camille jumped from the bed and darted to her dresser. Dinnertime was rapidly approaching, and she still had to get ready.

---

Ten minutes to seven, Camille Baker was peering around the couch and into her family's dining room. She was certain she looked goofy on all fours trying to be discreet and hidden, but it was pertinent that she wasn't caught. Likely, nothing bad would come of the situation, but she'd feel humiliated, even if no one knew the reason for her sneaking around.

At five foot, four inches, Camille Baker had grown into a stunning woman of eighteen years. Her platinum blonde hair was long and silky, falling in spiraled curls past her shoulder blades. Her eyes were a clear green, and her skin a soft alabaster that gave her the appearance of a fragile porcelain doll. Her pink lips were full, her cheekbones high and prominent, her eyebrows perfectly sculpted to a delicate arch. Her neck was thin, and at the hollow of her throat rested a simple white dove in flight that hung from a slim silver chain. Proportioned to her body, her breasts weren't large, but high and perky, the nipples a rosy pink, which strained against the thin white cotton tank she wore, making it obvious she had chosen not to wear a bra. Her hips weren't wide, and her backside certainly wasn't large, but her waist did narrow and flare once more in the feminine shape of an hour glass, tapering down to toned, slender thighs, and legs that were long considering how petite she was in height. Through elementary school, she had been teased about her fair skin and even lighter hair, the merciless bastard children calling her names such as vampire, and Wednesday, even though she wasn't dark-haired, or a member of the creepy Adamm's family. Middle school had been less awkward for her, most of the children maturing enough to get over teasing her, and even sheepishly apologizing and befriending her. But in high school, oh how she had blossomed, and had even begun to date one of those cruel children who had taunted her. Right now, he was standing with her father in the kitchen, who was introducing him to the rest of the family.

Camille had to make a quick break. With a quiet shuffle she darted from the living room, to the dining room, and dove underneath the long, trailing white tablecloth that reached almost to the floor. It was excessive, but it hid her. In wait of everyone to be seated, the girl settled in the center of the table so that no one brushed unintentionally against her, how awfully embarrassing would that be?

To pass the time, Camille dipped a hand beneath the baggy blue plaid boxer shorts, and stroked her fingertips gently up her inner-thighs. She loved the feel of her own skin, so soft, especially closer to her nether lips. Freshly shaved, her skin was silky, and she dipped a finger beneath the band of her thong panties to stroke a digit teasingly over her clit. Her teeth slid over her bottom lip, and she repeated the gesture, her eyes squeezing closed, blocking out the sight of legs appearing as her two visiting aunts, their husbands, and her mother's parents sat. Lids fluttered open, and she counted the khaki colored pants, and absently noted that her mother was missing in her chair. She was probably still preparing something or another for dinner.

Uncertain, Camille gazed at the length of masculine legs, trying to decide just which pair belonged to Nathan, though she didn't have to decide much longer. It must certainly be the pair with the cock that was straining against the zipper, begging to be freed of its confinement. With a quiet shuffle she shifted forward.

---

Above the table, Mike spread his legs out before him, kicking back, relaxing. Work-worn fingers were curled around the neck of a bottle of Coors Light, and his lips twitched upwards in a smile at something fairly amusing that his sister's husband said. He couldn't recall. He was too busy thinking about how nice it would have been to be alone with his wife in that very dining room so he could bend her over the table and fuck her good and hard. What was keeping her, anyway? Yeah, she'd spilled spaghetti sauce all over her dress, but did that really warrant her to take all the time in the world to change and return down here?

Brooding thoughts were interrupted with a feather light touch on his thigh, so faint, he was certain it was the tablecloth. That is, of course, until he felt, rather than heard, the zipper of his pants being drawn slowly down. His eyes about bugged out of his head, and he almost choked on his beer. What the fuck? Rather than peering underneath the table, and attracting attention that could be humiliating and difficult to explain, Mike tried to ignore the hand that tap-danced up his thigh until it delved into the front of his pants and pulled his dick out. Wide-eyed, he glanced expectantly amongst the faces, certain that they knew exactly what was going on, but they all appeared oblivious.

His cock grew even harder in the soft hand that gripped him, weeping pre-cum at the slit. How had his wife gotten down there? However it was, she was sneaky, and obviously hadn't thought the whole thing through. How did she plan to get out in the middle of dinner with no one knowing? That was an impossible feat, but worth it, considering how aroused he was. Hunching his spine a little, Mike sunk a bit more down beneath the table, offering himself to his wife. Her hand timidly stroked up and down his cock, circling the bulbous head with her fingertips before plunging back down. The touch wasn't firm, rather, it was fairly light, but the sensation of it still felt so unbelievably good.

---

Camille had indulged in a lot of porn watching to build up to this day. She had never before had sex. Not only that, but she had never gotten past first base, not even with Nathan. This was a huge step, but lately, she'd been so horny, which was evidence enough that she had even concocted this half-crazed idea. But she saw something similar to it in a pornographic video once, where a girl was having dinner with her boyfriend at a restaurant, and slipped beneath the table to suck him off. Now here she was trying to reenact it like some floozy, with her family around, no less. Hopefully they remained none-the-wiser.

Above her, she heard the continued chatter and laughter of her family, loud and boisterous as always, surely silencing any sounds that she made beneath the table. Certain that she wouldn't be heard, Camille removed a small remote control from the front breast pocket of her shirt, and thumbed the device on. Instantaneously, a quiet vibrating started in the little bullet that was attached to the undergarment she wore. The vibrations felt humming right against her aching clit. On her eighteenth birthday, the girl had purchased the 'Remote Control Butterfly' from the porn shop she had visited as a gag souvenir, but upon testing it had fallen in love with it. And she loved it even more since it pleasured her hands free, allowing her both hands to explore her boyfriend. To get comfortable, Camille straddled the leg that was stretched out at her right, settling her vibrating pussy against the shin that she assumed belonged to Nathan. Eagerly, her hand tightened on his hard cock, and she stroked a little more firmly, though, with some difficulty. To remedy this, the girl leaned in, and laved her tongue the whole length of the throbbing dick, even pressing a suckling kiss briefly against the head, before she resumed her stroking. She was so pleased with her boyfriend for behaving so well, so nonchalantly, keeping everyone oblivious to his hand job, even though she knew she was making him feel good. She'd have to reward him.

---

"Oh, my god..."

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he about swallowed his tongue, before he jerked his head upright, and gazed glassy-eyed at the people gathered around him, which were eyeing him curiously. Next to him, Joshua, one of his brother-in-laws, inquired in a quiet voice, "Are you alright, Mike?"

After clearing his throat, and hoping his voice didn't crack like a boy going through puberty, he nodded his head.

"Yeah, I think I might be coming down with what Camille has, but I'll be okay. I -- I can make it through dinner..." That is, if it was ever served, and it might not be anytime soon since his wife was still going to town down beneath the table. Oh man, this was the most erotic, sexiest thing they had ever done, and he wanted so badly to come, but he also wanted to draw the experience out, to revel in it, and enjoy something that might never happen, ever, ever again.

Again his eyes rolled when he felt the caress of the tongue on his cock, and his hips involuntarily lifted a fraction, bumping his cockhead against soft, full lips in hopes they'd open and swallow him up. He had no such luck. He could, however, feel the hot breath fanning against his scrotum now, and he bit down harshly on his lip when he felt grinding on his leg and the teasing, feather-light kiss on his heavy sac. He could envision his wife down there, rubbing her pussy on his leg, so wet and horny for him, yet eager to satisfy his arousal. It almost had him climaxing right there, though she seemed to sense that and backed off, reducing her stroking on his dick to a feather-light caress that frustrated him, and excited him. Oh, God! He wanted to cum so badly, now.

---

A soft smile played at her lips. She wasn't a cruel person, so she ceased her torment. After only a few moments, she resumed her firm stroking, and finally bowed her head at last. Platinum curls spread over khaki pants, and her lips parted wide to take him in her mouth. Her tongue flattened against the veined underside of his cock, and she rolled her lips over her teeth to prevent them from scraping along his sensitive flesh, but she did apply a bit of pressure with her now covered teeth as she pulled her head slowly back up. Her grinding on his shin had come to a frenzied pace, pressing the little vibrator painfully against her clit as it merrily continued it's monotonous tune that felt so unbelievably good. She was going to cum soon, and she wanted him to cum with her, not for sentimental value, but because it was one of the biggest turn-ons, seeing a man orgasm, even if she didn't have the opportunity to watch his face as he climaxed.

With her left hand she continued to stroke his cock while she swallowed what she could of his length, holding him at the back of her throat for as long as she could without gagging too loudly. Her right hand crept downwards and cupped his balls, gently rolling the pliable skin in her fingers and against her palm, stroking him. Her attention on him grew demanding. She was stroking faster, sucking harder, determined to make him orgasm soon. Already she could feel her own approaching, and she screwed her eyes shut and sealed her lips securely over his dick to quiet her moans, which sent little vibrations throughout the length of him. Her thighs clasped his shin tightly as she bucked against his leg, and she was at last rewarded with the taste of him hitting the back of her throat. Jerking in surprise, she swallowed some of his climax, but directed the rest to paint her throat in streams of pale white fluid.

---

Oh god, oh god, oh god...

His eyes screwed shut, and he covered his face with his hands as he feigned discomfort with his head, which wasn't hard, as if he had a terrible headache. Clutching, digging his fingers in his hair, he came with such force he was surprised that he didn't hit his wife's father in the knees all the way across the table with his ejaculation. His cock was twitching hard, and his toes curled in his shoes hard enough to pop the bones. In the midst of his powerful orgasm, his hands fell beneath the table, and he dug his fingers tightly into silky hair, knotting it in his fist, and holding the mouth down on his cock when it swallowed him up again after some of his climax coated her skin. As his eyes lifted towards the ceiling, he caught sight of something moving, and his vision shifted to none other than his wife. Dumbfounded and lost in the throws of orgasm, it didn't register until after the now anonymous person beneath the table had cleaned off his dick and put it back in his pants, did he realize that there was no way in hell that could have been his wife.

"I'm sorry I took so long. I had to get the stain out before it settled and completely ruined my dress. Shall we begin?" Inquisitively, a smile was passed to her husband, and she leaned down as she passed to brush a kiss against his jaw.

Dread and arousal settled low in his belly, and all the pieces of the puzzle he hadn't realized existed slid into place. His daughter's absence, her boyfriend's continuing presence, the amazing blowjob, it hadn't been meant for him. Now the question was, what did he do with this knowledge? Feigning ignorance seemed like the best plan, and hoping none of the participating parties found out.