It was a full house. The kids had gone to bed early, leaving the adults to drink and chat while my big brother scrolled through the movie collection. I snuggled closer to Stoney, my newly engaged fiancé, feeling the alcohol I’d been chugging all night start to catch up with me. When I reached for his glass, he moved it just out of reach, flashing me a knowing smile. I pouted, feigning annoyance.
I turned my attention to the TV, only to see my brother had picked a movie I didn’t particularly care for. I rolled my eyes. Of all nights. It was my engagement celebration, and yet I was stuck here with everyone else because my fiancé wanted to bond with my family.
I cast him a petulant look. Sure, I appreciated that he was making an effort and seemed to genuinely enjoy their company, but with the happiness bubbling in my chest—and the alcohol buzzing in my veins—there were far more exciting ways I’d rather be spending this evening.
Absentmindedly, I let my fingers trail along his thigh, my mind wandering as I tuned out the movie that everyone else seemed so engrossed in. My fingers brushed upward again, skimming higher until they grazed it. Subconsciously, I traced its outline with a fingertip, lingering until it jerked beneath my touch. My brows shot up in surprise as my hand stilled.
Slightly sobered, I got up to fetch a blanket, using the opportunity to change into my thigh-length sleep shirt and crotchless panties. When I returned downstairs, I draped the blanket over my fiancé and myself, mumbling something about being cold when he raised a questioning brow. I leaned into him, settling across his thigh as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders.
Under the cover of the blanket, my fingers resumed their exploration along his thigh. Slowly, I increased the pressure, alternating between gentle kneading and light scratches with my nails. His focus on the movie faltered, and he turned to look at me. I kept my eyes fixed on the screen, feigning innocence. With a smirk tugging at his lips, he pulled the blanket higher, cocooning us up to our chins. I bit back a smile.
His hand, once resting on my shoulder, drifted downward, brushing against the top of my breasts. I silently thanked my earlier decision to forgo a bra.
Feeling emboldened, I reached out to unbuckle his belt, carefully undoing the clasp before moving to his fly. The faint scrape of the zipper felt impossibly loud in the quiet room, and I froze, glancing up at him in hesitation. His eyes glimmered with mischief as he winked at me and, without warning, unleashed the loudest, most exaggerated sneeze I’d ever heard.
The room erupted in a chorus of "Bless yous," masking the sound as I quickly unzipped him. I pressed my lips together, trying—and failing—to stifle my giggle, the sound of my laughter dissolving into the collective murmurs of the group.
Reaching into his pants, I pulled out my favorite toy, my fingers wrapping around its familiar weight and warmth. I bit my bottom lip, savoring how right it felt in my hand. Stoney shifted, stretching out his leg in an attempt to stay composed. I smirked, knowing I was getting to him.
I teased him with long, deliberate strokes, my fingertips exploring the silky-smooth skin and tracing the thick veins that adorned his length. His hand on my breast grew more insistent, moving from gentle caresses to an almost possessive grip. My body responded in kind; my breasts, already sensitive, now throbbed under his touch, and a sticky warmth pooled between my thighs.
His other hand slid under the blanket and disappeared beneath my shirt, traveling up my leg with purpose. The hand on my breast gave one final, firm squeeze before retreating, likely to avoid drawing attention. He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to my temple, a move so subtle it could fool anyone watching.
But under the blanket, his fingers found their mark. When he brushed against my pleasure nub, a jolt of sensation shot through me.
A whimper escaped my lips before I could stifle it.
"Are you alright?" someone asked, their voice pulling me from the haze of pleasure.
I faked a yawn, forcing a casual smile as Stoney’s finger stilled inside me. "I'm okay, just a bit sleepy," I said, my voice steady despite the tension thrumming through my body. "I want to finish the movie before calling it a night, though."
Satisfied with my response, they turned back to the movie. I exhaled in relief, but my reprieve was short-lived. Stoney’s mischievous grin returned as he pressed his lips together, silently reminding me to keep quiet.
I rolled my eyes at him, but the gesture froze halfway when he slipped his finger deeper into my heat. My mouth parted in a silent gasp, forming an involuntary 'O.' He held his finger steady, the pad of his thumb working in slow circles against my sensitive nub. My hips responded instinctively, undulating ever so slightly against his hand, mirroring the rhythm as I quickened the movement of my hand around his shaft, letting him feel the exact torment he was inflicting on me.
He rewarded my efforts by twisting his finger inside me, adding another to the mix, and curling them just right. The come-hither motion sent electric shocks of pleasure spiraling through me, and before I could stop it, I shattered. My walls clenched tightly around his fingers, a silent symphony of release overtaking me.
I bit down hard on my lip, clamping my mouth shut as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, trailing down my cheeks from the sheer effort of containing my cries. Anywhere else, and I would have been howling like a banshee, lost in the crescendo of pleasure. Instead, I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, my body quaking as I rode the waves of my release, all while the movie droned on, oblivious to the storm beneath the blanket.
When I finally recovered, I reached out to return the favor, but Stoney shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning in close, he pressed them to my ear and whispered, "The mess," as he carefully withdrew his fingers from me.
I knew exactly what he meant. Stoney wasn’t subtle—he came in gallons. There was no way we’d get away with it. My hand brushed against the copious amount of precum he was already leaking, and I couldn’t help but smirk as he grimaced, trying to shove himself back into his pants. Once he managed to make himself somewhat decent, he grabbed the blanket, folding it neatly and holding it in front of him to disguise his still-prominent bulge. Thank goodness for the dim lighting.
"I should take this sleepy princess to bed," he announced, his tone light and even. The room responded with murmurs of approval, a few chuckles, and even a good-natured "Sleep well!"
He turned to me and offered his hand. I stood, my legs still slightly unsteady, and let him guide me out of the room. As we headed upstairs, my heart pounded in anticipation, knowing full well I’d need a gag for what I was about to experience.
