Being Discreet At Dinner

Claire sat on the couch with Daya when the doorbell cut through their low chatter. She opened the door to find her mother on the porch holding two plastic take-out bags. Before Claire could speak, her mother stepped inside. In the dining room Daya tried to say hello, but Claire blurted that Daya was just her roommate. Her mother left for the kitchen to fetch plates and forks. Daya frowned, voice low. "Why lie to her?" Claire whispered that her family was old-school and not ready to hear she liked women. When her mother came back, Daya slid beneath the table. Claire was still answering polite questions about work when hands tugged at her waistband, parted her legs, and a warm tongue pressed straight into her pussy. She gripped the chair arms, voice unsteady, trying to keep talking. Her mother went on about traffic and the neighbor’s dog until Daya let out an accidental moan and crawled into view. The truth hung in the air. Her mother left without a word. Alone again, Claire and Daya grinned at the table scattered with half-eaten food. They met in the middle, kissing hard, clothing dropping to the floor as they finished what they had started under the table.