Lacy's Secret Table

The rain hammered against the windows of The Golden Spoon, mirroring the chaotic energy swirling within me. Dinner with Lacy and the usual suspects – Steve and Stacy – was always a minefield of awkward glances and veiled barbs. But tonight felt different, charged with a simmering tension I couldn’t quite place. The truth was, Stacy’s aggressively glamorous appearance, in her skin-tight crimson dress that showcased every curve, stirred a primal longing within me, a stark contrast to the gentle, reserved beauty of Lacy.

Lacy, bless her heart, had been a steady presence in my life since my parents' tragic deaths. She’d pulled me from the abyss of grief and alcohol, introducing me to church and Christian counseling, steering me back towards a semblance of normalcy. We'd married quickly, during the suffocating confines of the pandemic, and while it hadn't been the grand romance I'd envisioned, it had been a surprisingly comfortable and fulfilling beginning. But Stacy, with her effortless charm and blatant disregard for boundaries, consistently threatened to steal my attention, my desires.

As we waited for our table, Lacy began whispering suggestive comments in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. She leaned in close, her scent intoxicating, and her voice a husky murmur that sent shivers down my spine. It wasn’t just the words themselves, but the sheer audacity of her invitation, the blatant disregard for our group dynamic. My arousal intensified, a hot, insistent pulse building within me. I felt a flicker of defiance, a rebellious urge to push back against the unspoken rules of our social circle.

When the hostess finally led us to our table, Steve and Stacy were already seated, their conversation a low hum of familiar pleasantries. Stacy’s dress, a daring affair of sheer black lace, was a blatant provocation, her cleavage daringly exposed. The sight of her, combined with Lacy’s insistent advances, ignited a firestorm of desire within me.

Lacy squeezed my thigh, her ample curves brushing against my hard-on. She whispered, her voice laced with a playful challenge, “Remember, I gave you this, not her.” The words hung in the air, a potent mix of possessiveness and defiance. I instinctively reached for her thigh, wanting to close the physical gap between us, but she deftly pulled away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She then leaned in and kissed my cheek, her lips lingering a moment too long. Under the table, her hand continued its relentless rhythm against my erection, a silent, insistent plea. The pressure built, the heat intensified, and I strained against the seams of my jeans, desperate to release the tension.

As I choked on my drink, attempting to disguise the convulsions wracking my body, Lacy expertly unbuttoned my jeans and slid my cock out from under the tablecloth. Her soft, warm hand felt incredible as she stroked my erection, her touch deliberate and sensual. The laughter and lighthearted banter of our group faded into the background as we became lost in our shared pleasure. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated lust, a reckless abandon that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

My breathing quickened, my heart pounding in my chest, as I fought to maintain composure in front of everyone. I placed a hand over Lacy’s, a silent signal of my intent, but she simply grinned and pulled her napkin off the table, allowing it to land squarely on my lap as a fresh wave of cum erupted from me. I quickly chugged my beer, praying that the deluge would be discreet enough to conceal the evidence.

Once the wave subsided, Lacy retrieved her napkin and brought it to her mouth, licking her lips as if savoring the moment. She winked at me, a knowing expression in her eyes, before excusing herself to the restroom. When she returned, she leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, and tucked her damp panties into my hand. “You made me cum without even touching me!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and delight.

The arrival of our orders provided a momentary distraction. As Lacy skillfully maneuvered her fingers around my cock throughout the remainder of the meal, my arousal intensified once again. By the time the checks came, I was experiencing another hard-on. We paid our share, and Lacy, with an air of sudden urgency, asked if I was ready to leave. She claimed she wasn't feeling her best, a convenient excuse for her true intentions.

As we stepped outside, the rain had intensified, creating a romantic atmosphere. Lacy and I immediately began making out, lost in the familiar comfort of our connection. Without hesitation, I opened her car door and helped her to sit, but she didn't place her legs in the car. Instead, she pulled me between her knees, swiftly undoing my pants and shoving my semi-hard cock into her mouth. She sucked me harder and faster than she had ever done before, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. It was a primal act, a release of pent-up desires that felt both reckless and liberating.

As I continued to pleasure her, Steve and Stacy walked past, their laughter echoing through the parking lot. The sound startled me, and Lacy abruptly pulled me away from her, getting into the car and laying the seat back. She lifted her dress, revealing her legs, and pulled me in on top of her, grabbing my hard-on to line me up. I slid into her hot, slippery pussy, the sensation electrifying. Her hands gripped my ass, pulling as she begged me to fuck her hard and fast.

I didn't hesitate, plunging deeper and deeper into her, making her yelp with each pounding thrust. Her body trembled uncontrollably, as an orgasm washed over her, her cream flowing out around my cock while I continued to deliver powerful blows. It was a frenzied, passionate encounter, a release of all the pent-up desire that had simmered beneath the surface.

After several more thrusts, I collapsed on top of Lacy, my muscles aching, my senses overwhelmed. Steve and Stacy walked by, their voices cutting through the humid night air. Lacy stared daggers at them, a silent expression of disapproval on her face. Once they had passed, I climbed off my wife, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated.

“Take me home, please,” Lacy said, her voice soft and seductive. “And please don’t think less of me, but I like how I behaved!” I squeezed her leg, telling her that I LOVE how she behaved, my voice filled with genuine affection. The rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of our encounter, leaving behind only the lingering scent of desire and the intoxicating memory of a night that pushed the boundaries of our expectations.

Did you like this story? Lacy's Secret Table look, but like these, here Mom sex stories.