Larry slices into something, chews, then says, “This is excellent. What am I eating here?”

James looks across to his plate. “Prune-stuffed pork. Regional speciality where I grew up, usually made for special occasions.” Larry’s brows arch.

Under the table, I become aware of a hand on my thigh. Ryan appears to be listening to the conversation, but ‘below stairs’ he eases between my knees, pushing them apart. Very quietly, he murmurs, “Open up.”

James and Larry are still talking. “Where was that? That you grew up, I mean?”

“Spain.”

“Really? What part?”

“Valencia Province. You know it?”

“Not well. I've visited Valencia city, but I didn't get further afield than that. So, you're Spanish?”

“My mother was Spanish. My father English.”

Ryan eases a finger down and in, tracing a line over my skin that makes my pussy warm and twitch. He speaks without moving his lips. “Wider.”

I’m trying to chew my food, but it’s not easy. Finger and thumb pluck at my panties. “Off.”

“Ryan…” My voice is a hiss.

“Off, I said.”

All eyes are on James and Larry. Nonetheless, I’m happy that, my face made-up, my flush is concealed as I raise myself from my seat just enough for Ryan to hook fingers into my panties and tug down. “Finish the job,” he murmurs. “Take them off and give them to me.”

Christ…

table, everyone talking

with, I slide the panties down and over my ankles, pressing them into Ryan’s waiting hand, snatch up the

fork, Kirstie?” James is already half-standing

it’s fine.” I wipe

But his hand does, pushing

astonishingly difficult to chew turkey while having

*****

murmurs something quiet to her, and she nods, grimacing. Then, “Can you excuse me, please.

Charlotte pipes up. “Bladder?”

“Um, yes,

a hand. I know what it’s like when you’re that size and

herself upright. But Charlotte is struggling herself to get up from her seat and Mitch rises too. “I think you both still need help in that area,” she

could do with a comfort break myself, but with Ryan’s finger working spirals between my pussy lips, I’m conscious of the

Black dress, not red…

Hmmm…

shoulder. “Kirstie, why do

austere expression

pipes up. “Actually, I’ve always wondered that too…” James and

it is an ideal opportunity to compare notes

his lip. “I

the door open. A tide of dogs flows into the room, tails wagging, noses raised towards table level, or in Emma’s

up a pig-in-blanket, he smears bacon fat all along the length of the paper. He snaps his fingers under the table, waving the greasy paper. “Hey, Scruffy. Here, Scruffy.” Michael’s rat-faced mongrel streaks across the

hair and outrage, but Ryan, Michael, Richard and Larry exchange inspired glances, snatching off their own hats. Michael wipes his down with a

sits at Richard’s feet, raising limpid brown eyes to him, then as she is presented with turkey-flavoured tissue, descends on it like a wolf ravening from

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