Chapter 13: The Family Dinner Trap

Mom’s text lit up my phone while Sophie was still straddling me on the couch, her knees planted wide, my cock buried deep inside her from the lazy morning quickie that had started the moment she woke up. She rocked slow and steady, the kind of unhurried grind that let me feel every flutter of her walls around me, her bare tits brushing my chest with every roll. The apartment smelled like fresh coffee and the faint musk of us, sunlight cutting through the blinds in sharp gold lines across her flushed skin.

The message buzzed against the crate table beside us. MOM: Hey kids, let’s do family dinner tonight at that little Italian spot on Main. My treat. We should celebrate how well you two are holding it together on your own. 7pm?

Sophie froze mid-roll, her pussy clenching hard around me in a sudden, involuntary squeeze. I felt the shift in her breathing against my neck, quick and shallow. For a heartbeat neither of us moved, my hands still gripping her hips, her nails digging into my shoulders. The guilt hit first—sharp, familiar, the same cold twist that always came when Mom’s name appeared on my screen. Then the heat followed, darker and heavier, pooling low where our bodies were still joined.

“Shit,” Sophie whispered, but she didn’t climb off. Instead she rolled her hips once more, deliberate and filthy, taking me deeper while she read the text over my shoulder. “We can’t say no.”

We dressed in charged silence after she finally slid off me, a thick trail of my release already slipping down the inside of her thigh. She chose a short sundress the color of ripe peaches, the kind that skimmed her ass and clung to her breasts with nothing underneath. I watched her bend to slip on sandals, the hem riding high enough to show the faint red bloom of last night’s handprints still lingering on her skin. My cock twitched again at the sight, half-hard against my jeans as I tied my shoes.

The drive to the restaurant felt too small. Sophie’s hand rested on my thigh the whole way, fingers tracing idle circles that climbed higher with every mile. The radio played low, some forgettable pop song neither of us heard. She leaned close at a red light, lips brushing my ear. “Mom has no idea her daughter is sitting here soaked, thinking about her brother’s cock while we pretend to be normal.” The words landed like a spark. I shifted in the seat, my jeans suddenly too tight, the image of her under the table already burning behind my eyes.