*** 1 ***
In a moment of icy silence, Joshua came to the rescue. That was just like him, always so insightful and ready to smooth things over. He cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like to see a magic trick I've been working on?"
"Oh, yes, dear," Clara said excitedly.
Joshua set down his fork, wiped his hands on the napkin, and stood up. "I'm going to need a volunteer for this one. Mom?"
Of course, I couldn't refuse. It would have been nice for him to do one of his coin tricks or anything that didn't involve me. Having me in the spotlight was unlikely to brighten the mood, no matter how good his act was. I felt the condescending stares of my parents-in-law, criticizing every fold out of place. I felt the loathful glare of Monica, Joshua's girlfriend, who hated my guts.
I stood up and smoothed out my dress. "Alright, what do you want me to do?"
"Just step aside for a moment," he replied.
He took over my spot at the end of the table and grabbed the hem of the green tablecloth. For a split second I was worried he was going to pull at it, like one of those stage magicians who pulled the cloth out from underneath plates but he just held it. As good as I thought he had gotten at sleight of hand tricks, I doubted it was physically possible to do that trick on a table that full of food. All six of us stared at him expectantly.
His entire body sprang into motion. His feet bent at the knee and he put the full weight of his body into yanking at the tablecloth.
All the contents of the table came zooming with it. The half-carved turkey on a silver platter. The bowl of squash soup. The gravy boat. The cranberry sauce. All the other serving bowls. The plates, glasses, and cutlery. The culmination of hours and hours of hard work and hundreds of dollars of earthenware.
The noise was horrendous. A cacophony of clangs, clatters, and bangs. My get wrenched into a tight knot. My brain was struggling to process what had just happened. The pitcher of orange juice shattered and cold liquid splashed against my feet. A large shard of glass embedded itself in the drywall.
I looked at Joshua, horrified. My parents' faces were pale. Clara's eyes goggled. Arthur held a fork with a piece of potato halfway to his mouth, slack-jawed. Monica's eyebrows were raised and her glasses slid down all the way to the tip of her nose.
The only one who didn't show any sort of reaction was Joshua. He went on as if nothing had happened. "This is a new trick I've been working on," he said nonchalantly.
He grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me backward on the table. My back hit the solid wooden surface and it knocked the wind out of my lungs. What was happening? Had he gone insane?
"I'm going to make my cock disappear," he went on. He reached for his fly and unzipped. Clara let out a loud gasp at seeing her grandson pump his penis to a full six and a half inch erection.
Panic seized my mind. My legs felt numb and my fingers were tingling. Everyone at the table just kept staring as if we were all under the same spell. Everyone except for Joshua.
He pushed my dress up my legs, exposing the black lace Victoria's Secret briefs. I wanted to feel my best that morning and I knew I needed my emotional strength for the day, that's why I put on the fanciest underwear I owned. Anything else would have been better than the sheer black fabric that did next to nothing at concealing my sex.
"What..." I gasped in surprise.
Joshua slipped his fingers under the waistband of my briefs, his fingers digging into the soft, milky white skin of my thigh and yanked. A brief spike of pain flared up and the elastic bit into my skin. It snapped, exposing my pussy to the entirety of my extended family. Blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy.
He stepped between my legs, prying them apart. Grabbed my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge. His thick, bulbous head pushed into me, splitting me apart.
A metallic clang erupted right next to my head as Arthur dropped the fork he was holding. Clara looked down at the scene in horror, hand covering her mouth. My mother had tears in her eyes and my dad's comforting touch did little. The portrait of my dead husband looked down on me with intense disapproval, asking me how I could let our son fuck me on the Thanksgiving table in front of everyone. Monica snarled with fury.
I wanted to die of shame. I pressed my hand on my crotch in a vain attempt to cover it up what was happening, but it did little. It just hid my bush and vulva but his thick shaft was still plunging into my wet pussy. Over and over. It felt so damn good.
Every thrust was accompanied by a wet squelch. The table creaked with movement. I breathed hard, trying my best not to cum.
Monica's lips were trembling but she was too dumbstruck to start shouting. She was looking at Joshua in disbelief, wondering just how it was possible that he preferred fucking his mother's cunt to hers. Part of me wanted to taunt her. I let out a moan to let her know just how great it felt to have him for myself.
Clara looked down at me with disgust in her beady little eyes. Like she was trying to tell me she knew that I was nothing but a worthless slut and this only confirmed it. What kind of a harlot got that wet at her son fucking her? I felt that confirmation in the slickness of my hand clutching my vagina.
How could I ever live down the humiliation of climaxing in front of my inlaws? In front of my own parents? I had no idea. I bit my lip to keep from moaning and blinked away a tear. Wave after wave of euphoria crested on my body.
"And now for the finale," Joshua announced and pulled out.
Cum hit my face. A hot splash on my flushed skin. A thick rope landed on my beautiful dress, all the way from my bellybutton to my shoulder. Five, six, seven ropes altogether. Joshua's hand grasped my upper thigh and his thumb stroked my still-quivering leg.
"Mom?" a different Joshua asked me.
I was yanked out of my fantasy hard enough to break the sound barrier. I looked around in bewilderment. The table was still set with all the dishes. The tablecloth was undisturbed. I felt nauseous. My knees were weak.
"What?" I asked. My mouth felt strange and I realized I drooled a little.
"You were looking at me funny," Joshua said.
Blood rushed to my face and I knew I was blushing. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was distracted. How's the food?"
"Great, but—"
"Excuse me for a second, I need to use the restroom."
I stood up on unsteady legs and hurried out of the room, grabbing my phone from the counter. Rushed up the stairs, trying to ignore the dampness between my legs. Locked the door of the master bathroom behind me and sucked in deep lungfuls of air.
I sat down on the lid of the toilet and called Aurelia. "I just had another one," I spoke into the microphone the instant she picked up. I shoved my hand between my legs and marveled at how drenched the poor fabric had gotten.
*** 2 ***
The bedsheet bore the unmistakable signs of lovemaking. A slightly crusty, discolored spot right in the center of the fabric. How much of it was Joshua's and how much Monica's? A shiver ran down my spine.
The two of them have been intimate for a while. I had no idea what Joshua saw in her. She was good-looking, with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a slim but plain face, and wore glasses. Someone as good-looking as Joshua was way out of her league and she knew it. That's why she fought like hell to keep him away from other women. Including me.
Sometimes I wondered if she was able to tell what was going on inside my head.
At least the weekend was over. I crumpled up the sheets and stuffed them in the washing machine, wishing I could also launder my brain clean. Monica was not quiet in bed and I had been able to hear them through the thin walls.
My imagination filled in the rest. Joshua, toned but not quite muscular, lying on top of Monica. Her legs wrapped around his waist. She whispered into his ear, "You are mine, Joshua. Only mine."
I slammed the door shut and started the machine. It began to fill with water.
Every day it seemed to get harder and harder to distract myself. I tried eating a snack but after opening the pantry, I remembered that I had thrown away all my snack food because if I had eaten a snack every time I got horny, I would have put on ten pounds. I tried watching TV but I was too restless to sit still.
Fortunately, a distraction arrived when the washing machine acted up. It did that once in a while, when large bed sheets got tangled up and formed a lump, the drum got misaligned. It made a loud kachunk-kachunk-kachunk as the entire machine rattled.
All I had to do was pause the program, untangle the mess, and start it up again. It took less than a minute and when I resumed, the machine hummed as expected. The drum spun around at over a thousand rotations a minute.
I placed my hand on the surface of the machine and was instantly reminded of touching a vibrator. I had been good all day but that was a step too much for me.
