Caught With My Remote

Kenna stepped through the door. Cherie pulled her into a long hug that left both of them smiling. Once she released her, the girl slipped upstairs, calling that she would see her at dinner. What Cherie did not know was that her own lace panties had been swapped for a thin pair with a small motor tucked against the clit. Kenna kept the phone in her pocket like a toy she planned to use later. They took their usual seats. Cherie spoke lightly about classes and professors. Kenna waited until the first bite of roast had cleared her mother’s mouth, then touched the screen. A low pulse traveled straight between Cherie’s legs. She froze, knife half-lifted, eyes wide. Another tap and the rhythm doubled, pressing tight and hot against the already damp fabric. Cherie crossed her ankles, searching for breath while her husband poured wine and talked about work. She tried to answer. Words came out ragged. When he left for another bottle she grabbed the edge of the table, nails whitening. “What the hell is happening?” she hissed across the plates. Kenna only grinned and kept chewing. As soon as the cellar door clicked shut, Kenna slid beneath the cloth, knees on the rug, mouth open against warm skin. Cherie jolted, one palm flattening on the wood above, the other curling around Kenna’s hair. Pleasure rolled through her in sharp waves. By the time he returned she was dripping, the chair creaking each time her hips shifted. The moment footsteps faded again the tablecloth lifted and Cherie dropped to the floor as well. Her hands tore at buttons. Fabric hit the carpet. They crashed together without grace, teeth scraping, tongues chasing salt. Cherie sucked one hard nipple, then the other, while fingers slid through soaked folds. Kenna answered by dragging her open mouth over Cherie’s cunt, licking deep, then flicking the swollen clit until Cherie’s thighs shook. They rolled. Hips locked. Flesh slid hot and wet as they ground together, each rub sending sparks up their spines. One moment Cherie was on her back, the next she straddled Kenna’s face, riding the greedy tongue while she leaned forward to bury her own mouth between spread thighs. The wet sounds of licking filled the space under the table. Kenna’s hands gripped Cherie’s ass, pulling her wider, tongue tracing lower to circle the tight ring of muscle before thrusting back inside the dripping cunt. Cherie came with a muffled cry, her whole body jerking. Another pulse, another rush of slick, and she came again, forehead pressed to Kenna’s thigh. They did not stop until the clink of glass announced his return. Breathless, they snatched their clothes and slipped into chairs, legs still trembling, hearts hammering, the taste of each other still on their tongues.