The dining room table 6

In the back room of the house, adjoining the kitchen, was the dining room. It was usually quite a regal and ornate space, but now decorated with plastic cups and empty bottles it looked anything but. The most eye-catching thing in the space was the dining table, a massive altar of mahogany that was so heavy you could barely get one side of it off the ground. Normally it wouldn’t be much of a hiding place, but now that it was bedecked with all the detritus of a party, it could reasonably conceal something as small as a planchette. Carefully, you pick up cups from the crowded space, checking inside them in case the planchette was tossed in. If the cup was empty, you discarded it over your shoulder with a clatter. If it still had any liquid, in you placed it on the floor, unwilling to sully Sarah’s house even though you were in a rush. One by one, you clear the table of it’s mess, with nothing to show for it. Once you put the final empty beer bottle on the floor you flip up the table cloth that runs down the center of the wood, just to make sure your target wasn’t stashed under there. When that finds nothing, you briefly consider hefting up the table to check under it’s feet, but ultimately decide against it. If the planchette was under there, the whole thing would probably be crooked, and besides that, you doubt even Tom could lift this thing in a hurry. Stepping away, you resolve to look somewhere else.

"Y’know, after a few years in the void, or wherever you’ve been, I bet you want to do more to a pussy than just taste it, eh John Doe?" Sarah said, her voice sultry with dirty promise. “Sarah, are you sure this is a good idea?” Miranda asked, her worried tone from the start of all this returning in full ****. Her anxiety fills you with hope that at least some of her enthusiasm for everything she had just done for John Doe was fake. “Haha, nope,” Sarah said, accompanied by the shifting of bed springs as she repositioned herself. Even without seeing her, you know what position she’s put herself in. On her back, legs spread and tight pussy bared to John Doe. “But how can I say no to that cock?” She asked rhetorically, her mind already made up.

There’s a half second of silence, and then another creak on the bed that must be John Doe joining her. “Don’t make me wait,” Sarah mutters, followed by a drawn out, guttural moan that must be from Tom penetrating her. He seems to be taking it slowly, savoring every hot inch of Sarah's body as he penetrates her with his massive dick. Her moaning goes on so long that she has to stop for air, taking it in in quick shuddering breaths. Miranda must be watching the spectacle in silence, you hope with a sense of dread rather than awe or jealousy. After what seems like an age, Tom bottomed out in Sarah and her breathing switched from desperately panting to deep, slow breaths. “Phew, o-okay,” Sarah muttered, her voice trembling. “That was a lot to take in,” she muttered, before weakly laughing at her own joke. “How do you feel Sarah?” Miranda asked, sounding more like she was checking up on a friend after an operation than talking to a girl mid coitus. “It felt like my first time for the second time, but I think I’m getting used to it now. Waaaaaaiit, that doesn’t mean mooooove!” Her voice descends into a warbled yell as Tom begins to pull out. “Ahh! That doesn’t mean put it back either!” She shouts again as he returns his full length home into her. Following this up and down moaning you hear a low grumble of complaint. “Just give me a minute,” Sarah reassures him. “You’re the biggest I’ve ever had, and trust me, that really means something.”

“Alright, now move, but do it slooooooooow,” as Sarah speaks her voice trails off into a groan again, but this time it’s a sound of pure pleasure. When you hear her gasping lightly you guess that John Doe is pushing his dick back into her. For a little while you listen to Sarah's moaning and gasping, letting you know exactly the tempo at which Tom is fucking her without even seeing it. Slowly at first, that tempo begins to speed up, Sarah's gasps and moans getting quicker and louder as her fuckhole grows more accustomed to taking John Doe’s huge fuckstick. Soon enough, the groaning of the bed springs joins Sarah’s moans of ecstasy, a chorus of pleasure that’s a testament to the size of Tom's cock and John Doe’s ability to use it.

Abruptly, Sarah's moans are cut off. “H-hey! Let go of her!” Miranda shouts, her anxiety boiling over to full blown panic. Tom must be **** Sarah again. You’re about to sprint upstairs and finally bash Tom's head in when you hear Sarah speak. “It’s okay,” she croaks. “It feels good.” Those words flood you with confusion. Was it really just a sex thing this whole time? Was John Doe not trying to hurt her but instead just being kinky?

“Still, maybe you could just grab something else? L-like me?” Miranda offers herself up as a sacrifice to make sure her friend is safe, and from the way she gasps it seems that John Doe takes her up on the offer. “Mmph, I love it when you grab my ass,” she moaned, either being sincere or doing an excellent job at sounding like it. With the fucking still ongoing You hear the sound of making out again, but Sarah’s moans of pleasure are ringing out unrestricted. With a grim sigh you realize Miranda is making out with Tom as he pounds Sarah into the mattress. “Hey, stop kissing him and suck on my tits!” Sarah shouts. “God, you’re so demanding,” Miranda replies, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Only because you’re so good at it, Ooh yes, suck my nipple just like that,” Sarah moaned, evidently getting exactly what she wanted. The thought that Miranda and Sarah have played with each other like that before, exploring each other’s perfect bodies with their hands and mouths, makes your cock throb in your pants. You’ll have to ask them about that, once you find that damn planchette.