Mother-in-Law Adventures Part 9
Thanksgiving With My Hot Mother-in-Law
The real meal is what happens under the table
Holidays are always stressful. Now, imagine how much more awkward they become after you’ve fucked your mother-in-law. And I don’t mean that I only fucked her once. Since my wedding to her daughter Sophie three months ago, Mrs. Madeline Worthington and I have been smashing gennies pretty much around the clock. Sophie and I? Not so much.
Which is why I am on edge this Thanksgiving.
Madeline insisted on hosting the event in her family’s cabin up in Lake George, NY. It’s to be an intimate affair — eight of us in total. To some, that might seem like a lot of people, but not to a billionaire socialite. A party this small would have left too much empty space around that ridiculous table they have in their fancy dining hall back home.
Anyway, the fact that we had to travel here means we all had to spend the night. My wife was in bed with me when I fell asleep; she was gone when I woke up to take a piss. Around that time, I heard giggling in my sister Katie’s room next door. It’s just as well because Madeline eventually crawled into bed with me. This was especially brazen considering my own mother was just across the hall, in the room next to my father-in-law. His ultra-conservative sister Margaret and her husband Sir Edward Marble were in the room on his other side, and are known to be light sleepers.
And now we’re all in the living room, listening to the crackle of a warm fire, pretending we’re a normal family. I’ve been staring at the same sentence of Sense and Sensibility for 15 minutes, trying to ignore Sophie and Katie as they chat up my mother while sharing a cozy blanket on the couch. Meanwhile, Mr. Worthington is working to mend his strained relationship with Margaret in hopes she’ll be willing to part with a series of valuable paintings that were left to her in their mother’s (my grandmother-in-law’s) will. From the sound of it, the negotiations aren’t going well.
“Jason, dear,” Madeline calls from down the hall. “Would you mind helping me in the kitchen, please?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Worthington.”
Madeline isn’t just hosting this soiree; she’s also preparing the meal herself. Most billionaire socialites would laugh at the idea of cooking for people, but it’s been one of my mother-in-law’s favorite hobbies since she was a girl. Her parents were neglectful and she was mostly raised by their head chef.
Of course, she’s not completely alone in the kitchen today. She brought along Devin, her own head chef, to assist her. I suspect she wants to keep this a secret, as she snuck him in through the back door after having him sleep in a separate cabin last night. Rich people are weird.
As soon as we get into the kitchen, Madeline drags me into the pantry and pins me against the shelves. “I thought I told you not to call me Mrs. Worthington,” she says before shoving her tongue into my mouth.
I wrap my arms around her tight middle-aged body, feeling her firm breasts against my chest and the warmth radiating from her pussy through layers of clothing — including an adorable apron.
“Kiss the cook,” the apron says. Don’t mind if I do.
But then I hear whistling out in the main kitchen area and remember about Devin. Luckily, he’s facing the other way, with earbuds in as he rolls out sheets of raw dough.
“We should stop,” I whisper. “We’re not alone.”
“I know. Isn’t it hot?” She continues to plant tiny kisses on my neck while she probes the bulge in my khakis.
I draw the line when she starts to undo my belt buckle. “Madeline, we can’t do this now,” I say. “There’s just too much going on.”
She looks back over her shoulder at all the food prep that still needs to be done. “You’re right,” she sighs. “How about during dinner?”
“During dinner?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You must be — ”
“Just remember to blink twice when you’re about to cum so I can finish you properly.”
Before I can respond, she gives me another deep wet kiss. “Ok, I’ve got to get back to work. See you soon, dear.” She slaps my ass and steers me towards the door.
“Wait! Didn’t you need my help with something?”
“I did, yes. My pussy was too cold and dry. Thanks for taking care of that for me.” She winks before adjusting her apron and washing her hands in the sink.
As the hours tick by, I’m consumed with anxiety thinking about what she has in store for me at dinner. She insists our special bond is a family tradition and that everyone is aware of it. I haven’t had the balls to talk to Sophie about it yet, but even if what Madeline says is true, I’m sure nobody wants us fucking right there at the table. Especially my mom, who has no idea about this so-called “tradition.”
At 6:00 p.m. I assist Madeline in serving the food. We have a beautiful golden-brown turkey accompanied by chestnut stuffing, smashed potatoes, pan-seared Brussels sprouts, and homemade biscuits. When complimented by her guests, Madeline gladly accepts full credit for the spread.
Instead of taking a seat at the end of the table opposite her husband, the place she set for herself is in the middle of the table — between Sir Marble and Katie. Meanwhile, I’m directly across from her between Margaret and Sophie. Luckily, my mother is as far away from me as possible — in the guest of honor position at the other end.
Though it’s tradition for the patriarch to make the toast, it is Madeline who stands and taps her wine glass. “I’d like to give thanks for this wonderful family,” she says. “May our special traditions continue to bring us comfort and joy for many years to come.”
“Here, hear,” my mother says, taking a big swig of wine.
Sitting next to my wife when I know I’m about to be pleasured by her mother makes me extremely anxious. I dab at my sweaty forehead with my napkin.
“Is everything alright, dear?” Madeline asks with a knowing grin.
“Everything’s delicious, Mrs. Worthington. I just added a little bit too much pepper to the turkey.” I chug my wine, then immediately refill my glass.
“Someone sure is thirsty,” Sophie says with a wink before returning her attention to Katie.
I’m still trying to process her words when I feel a foot on my crotch. Madeline raises a naughty eyebrow.
So, is this what we’re doing? Foot stuff?
It wouldn’t necessarily be my first choice, but I trust Madeline’s instincts in all things sexual. Nobody makes me cum harder than my sexy mother-in-law.
I look around self-consciously, and I’m relieved to see the other guests are all engaged in their own conversations. It’s now or never, I guess.
Using the napkin in my lap as cover, I sneak my hands under the table. Her foot is bare, warm, and slick with something thick and creamy. Softened butter maybe? I’m not sure how she pulled that off unless she stashed a tub of it under the table beforehand — which is exactly the kind of thing she’d do.
I give her a quick foot massage, pressing my thump on the arch, and pushing up towards the toes. I then gently pinch her ankle, being careful not to tickle — that’s how crotches get stomped and glasses of wine get spilled. Once she’s warmed up, I return my hand to the table and go about eating my meal as Madeline works her foot magic.
With the dexterity of a ballerina, she drags her toes up and down my veiny shaft, summoning blood and heat to the area. My cock grows quickly, and before I know it, I’m poking the underside of the table. I adjust my sitting position to give me more clearance.
Damn, this turkey is moist and tender. And if I don’t stop myself, I am going to eat every single one of these biscuits. The only thing better than food and sex is food and sex together at the exact same time.
But I can’t be selfish here. I have to return the favor.
I kick off my loafers, then drag my dress socks off one at a time by stepping on the toe with the other foot to hold it in place and dragging the heel out. It takes time — especially when Madeline is making it so difficult to concentrate.
Once my feet are bare, I feel around on the floor until I find the tub of butter. It’s warm and melty as though it’s been microwaved. After lubing up my piggies, I tease along her inner thigh until I reach her pussy. She’s not wearing panties, and she’s already damp. I gently trace her labia with my big toe until it plumps up like this turkey leg I’m gnawing on. I feel like a medieval king.
Just when I think it can’t get any better, Madeline adds another foot to the mix, sandwiching my dick between her smooth, pedicured arches. Applying the perfect amount of pressure and friction, she works my cock to a frenzy.
I wash down a bite of stuffing with a gulp of wine, then insert my big toe into her pussy. She stifles a squeal of delight with a forkful of potatoes. Gravy dribbles down her chin, and I’m reminded of last night when she swallowed a big load of my cum.
I try to bring my second foot to the party, but there are already too many appendages involved. It’s just as well since I get more leverage with one foot firmly planted on the floor. After managing to get four out of five toes inside her, I slowly wiggle and prod, getting her wetter and looser with every thrust. My feet aren’t as coordinated as hers, so she discretely lends a hand and rubs her own clit. It does the trick.
She stares deep into my eyes, takes in a long, slow breath, and bites her lip so hard that blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. Her pussy quakes around my toes while the rest of her body remains still as a statue.
I wait for the tremors to subside before withdrawing my foot and drying it off on the carpet. Meanwhile, she continues to jack my dick off between her feet, bringing me closer to bliss with every kicking stroke.
I am about to have a Meg Ryan moment — except both my food and sex orgasms will be real. As per Madeline’s instructions, I blink twice. Right on cue, she drops her fork on the floor.
“Clumsy me,” she says, sliding back her chair and climbing under the table.
A quick surge of panic shoots through me but subsides when I realize the other guests are still oblivious to what we’re up to. And then I feel Madeline’s familiar lips around the end of my cock, and her long, slim fingers wrapped around my shaft. Working her usual magic, she brings me home quickly.
Losing control of my senses, I bang a fist on the table. “Fuck, this food is so good!”
Everyone turns to look at me just as I blow my wad into my mother-in-law’s mouth.
“Sorry, everyone. I’m just really enjoying this meal.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Sophie chuckles.
There’s a long silence before everyone goes back to their conversations.
“Found it!” Madeline says, returning to her seat with her dirty fork in hand.
Once dinner is over, my mom and I volunteer to clear the table. To my surprise, Devin is no longer in the kitchen when we get back there. I hope he had a chance to eat something before he retired to his cabin.
“Well, this was just delightful,” my mom says as she rinses dishes in the sink. “Madeline is something else, I tell ya.”
“She sure is,” I say. If only she knew…
Mom gestures towards my crotch. “You uh… you got a little something on your…”
Sure, enough there’s an oily butter spot on my pants. Panicking, I grab a napkin and douche it with hot water. Of course, now it just looks like I pissed myself.
“Fuck!”
“Cool it with the language, Jason. We’re guests here.”
“I know, but everyone’s going to think — ”
“Everyone already knows. And trust me, you and Madeline weren’t the only ones getting busy during dinner.”
All I can do is stare at my mother with my jaw on the floor.
“Your wife and your sister,” she continues. “Mr. Worthington and Sir Marble.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Seriously? I don’t need to know any of this.”
“Oh, quit being such a prude, Jason. It’s 2023; get with the times.”
I sigh. “I guess you’re right. I’m just still getting used to this Worthington tradition. It’s certainly different than how we were raised. I mean — ”
And that’s when it hits me. “Hold on, now, you mentioned everyone at the table except you and Margaret. Did you…”
“Of course not. I’m not a lesbian. Anyway, she was all the way at the other end of the table.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Plus, I’m still sore from last night. That Devin is hung like a fucking horse. I’ll be sure to stop by his cabin later and personally thank him for today’s amazing meal.”
Having loaded the dishwasher, my mother heads back into the dining room carrying an assortment of desserts. Meanwhile, I hang back in the kitchen, processing what I just heard. The last thing I want right now is apple pie.
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