Sweet Rush: Dirty Little Diaries

BONDING TIME

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: BONDING TIME

The dining room glowed with warm lamplight as the family gathered around the long oak table. Plates clinked, laughter and conversation flowed easily, and no one noticed how close Claire and her boyfriend Greg were sitting. Claire wore a short pleated skirt that barely reached mid-thigh. Under the tablecloth, her legs were parted just enough. Greg’s hand rested high on her smooth thigh, fingers teasing the edge of her panties.

He pressed two fingers firmly against her p***y through the thin, already damp fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. Claire’s breath hitched. She tried to keep her face neutral while passing the salad bowl to her mother, but her thighs trembled when Greg suddenly hooked her panties aside and slid one thick finger straight into her soaked slit.

He pushed deep, curling his finger to stroke her inner walls. Claire’s p***y clenched hard around his fingere, her juices coating his knuckle instantly.

Then he added a second finger.

Claire bit the inside of her cheek to stay quiet as he began a steady rhythm, pumping both fingers in and out of her dripping cunt under the table. The wet, obscene sounds were barely masked by the clink of silverware and chatter. Her mother turned toward her with a smile.

“Claire, honey, how about that new promotion you told us about?”

Claire’s voice came out shaky, almost breathy. “It’s… I haven’t heard back from them yet.”

Greg added a third finger without warning, stretching her open wider. He f****d her steadily with three thick digits, his wrist moving in small, hidden thrusts while his thumb found her swollen c**t and rubbed in tight and fast circles.

“Well, you’ll get it. I know you will,” her mother said cheerfully, turning back to her father.

Claire’s thighs shook violently under the table. Her p***y made soft, slick sounds as Greg’s fingers pistoned in and out of her. Juices ran down his palm and dripped onto the chair. He curled all three fingers hard against her G-spot, scissoring them inside her while his thumb tortured her c**t.

She was soaking. Dripping. Her juices coated his entire hand.

Greg leaned close, pretending to reach for the wine, and whispered hotly in her ear, “Your cunt is so f*****g wet and hot, baby. You love getting finger-f****d at the family table, don’t you?”

Claire whimpered softly, pretending to chew her food. Her hips twitched against his hand, chasing the pleasure. Greg kept pumping faster, his knuckles bumping her entrance with every thrust. The pressure on her c**t was relentless.

Her father passed the wine. Claire accepted the glass with a trembling hand, nearly spilling it as Greg drove his fingers deeper and rubbed her c**t even harder.

She came quietly but violently.

Her p***y spasmed hard around his buried fingers, walls fluttering and squeezing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her thighs clamped together, trapping his hand between them, while fresh wetness gushed over his fingers. She bit her lip so hard she nearly drew blood, fighting back the moan that wanted to escape.

Greg didn’t stop. He kept fingering her through the orgasm, drawing out every last spasm, milking her cunt until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess.

When dessert arrived, he finally eased his fingers free. They glistened with her c*m under the table. He casually wiped them on his napkin, then stood and offered his hand to Claire.

“We’ll be right back,” he told the table with a polite smile. No one questioned it.

Claire followed him upstairs on shaky legs, her skirt still slightly hiked, her p***y throbbing and dripping down her inner thighs.

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, Greg spun her around and bent her over the edge of the bed. He yanked her panties down to her knees, freed his rock-hard c**k, and lined up.

He drove into her soaked p***y in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

Claire gasped loudly, gripping the sheets as he immediately started f*****g her hard. His hips snapped forward, his c**k sliding in and out of her dripping cunt with wet, filthy sounds. He gripped her waist tightly, pulling her back onto his thick shaft with every powerful stroke.

“f**k, you’re still so wet,” he groaned, pounding into her. “You came so hard on my fingers downstairs while your parents were talking to you.”

Claire moaned, pushing her ass back to take him deeper. “Harder… please…”

Greg obliged. He f****d her like an animal. Fast, deep, and relentless. The bed creaked under the force. His balls slapped against her c**t with every thrust. He reached around and rubbed her swollen c**t again, making her cry out.

He flipped her onto her back, lifted her legs over his shoulders, and slammed back inside. The new angle let him grind against her G-spot perfectly. He f****d her fast and deep, sweat slicking both of their skin.

Claire clawed at his arms, her p***y clenching around his c**k. “I’m gonna c*m again—”

“c*m for me, baby,” he growled, pounding harder.

She shattered. Her second orgasm crashed through her even harder than the first. Her p***y squeezed his c**k like a vice as she squirted around him, soaking his shaft and the sheets.

Greg groaned, his pace faltering. A few more brutal thrusts and he buried himself deep, pumping thick ropes of c*m into her pulsing p***y. He kept grinding through the aftershocks, filling her completely until c*m leaked out around his c**k.

They collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, his c**k still buried inside her.

Downstairs, the family continued their meal, completely unaware that Claire had been fingered to orgasm at the dinner table and then f****d senseless just upstairs.

Greg kissed the back of her neck, still half-hard inside her, already thinking about round two.