Walking into the dining room was an assault on the senses. Glassware sparkled with reflected sunlight, the silver polished to a high shine, and the ancient family china was so proudly the focal point of each place setting. My mother-in-law does enjoy throwing a formal party. I can’t blame her, it’s a lovely effect to see all her fancy dinnerware on display. Thing is, she’s also doing it to show it all off. I hate that part.

I slip into the assigned seat beside my husband, draping my napkin across my lap and folding my hands together to the prayer. For today, here, I can get through a prayer without a comment. Amen. All eyes rise to the feast set up in the center of the table and plates and bowls begin getting passed from one person to the next. Each china setting is loaded with food, wine is poured, and the conversation begins. We’ve all agreed not to engage Uncle John in religion. Don’t get Aunt Sarah started on her bunion surgery. And dear god, no one mention politics to my father-in-law.

It’s well into the meal when my small handbag tucked under my leg vibrates. Confused, I reach down, a little thrill racing through me at the name. Your name. Why would you be messaging me on Thanksgiving? I swiped the screen, opening the message and froze. It was a picture of your cock, hard, ready, eager. I felt my red turn red, felt a jolt of electricity jump through my core, and I couldn’t look away. You had never done something like this before, especially when I was with my family.

Fuck, the family. I swallowed, dropping my phone back into my purse and looking up to see if anyone had seen my reaction, had felt the heat and need rise through me. I was about to move the bag back beneath my thigh when I felt it vibrate again. I kept the phone in the purse this time and opened the message. “Don’t delete that. I want to see your reaction. Soon.”

“We just sat down to lunch.” I hurried and sent back.

My husband leaned over, letting one of his hands shift over my shoulders as he came close, whispering in my ear. “Can that wait until after we eat?”

My eyes rose to his, then everyone around the table who was now looking at me. “I...it’s work.” I stammered, wondering if there was a single person around the table who would believe that. “E...excuse me.” I said slowly rising from the table, shifting my napkin to the chair and fleeing as quickly as I could to the den just down the hall.

My phone vibrated in my hand. “I need to see you.” your words just a few lines below the delicious picture you has sent, my mouth watering for a completely different reason.

“Not now!” I sent back as quickly as I could. My mother-in-law slid the door to the den open, poking her head inside. “Everything okay, dear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I replied, looking down to see the notification on my lock screen read “New Picture Message.” I had to bite my inner lip from moaning at the ideas racing through my head. I snapped my eyes back to hers. “Problem at work. My boss was asking for a file.” Almost true. You were my boss, and you did want me to send you a file, but not for work. Not even safe for work.

“Well let me know if you need a computer to help.” She said, turning from the room and softly closing the door behind her.

I watched it close, swallowing hard, looking down to my phone and with a slightly trembling hand, opened the new picture message you had sent.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________!!THIS IS NOT A PROMPT ASKING FOR YOU TO SEND DICK PICS!!

Since there are those of you who will not have made it down this far, the rest of us will play a game.

This prompt has been open for 2 hours and has received 0 pictures specifically not asked for. As for everyone else, you can see the overall premise. You’re my boss and decided to spice up my Thanksgiving a little. What did you send next? Where will the night lead?

Kinks are NOT GETTING ACTUAL DICK PICS, people who read the entire prompt, and reply with as much detail.

Limits are scat, gore, violence, animals, and children.