<hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em><strong>Name:</strong> Andrea “Andi” Spalding <strong>Location:</strong> Kitchen Table <strong>Tags:</strong> The wife &amp; kids</em></span></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/WxKmhkd.jpg)</div><br/>Reese returns with sustenance, triumphant as always in his acquisition of the meal, demanding praise from those he considers his. As if the man hadn’t always had females clapping their hands for him his entire life, no matter how small the accomplishment. My eyes roam over his form, dart to Chanel’s, where he has looked first, and then back to the glass of wine in my hand, contemplating its depths while the other two women in the room applaud softly. After a slow sip, I push up off of my seat and arrange the bounty of pizza boxes lengthwise and back-to-back along the center of the square table.<br/><br/>The mundane chore gives me an easy glance at the table line where Chanel and Reese have taken up their post, empty plates in front of them. And the obvious spread of the sister’s legs so the brother’s hand is more than welcome between them.<br/><br/>Years of practice at holding my poker face in the board room comes into play now. My hands don’t even shake as my eyes drop to their task. The hunch is true and Devil certainly is at work here…. And the fact that such an intimate act is occurring within my family, at my table, where my wife and I have enjoyed ourselves before… makes things start to stir and churn deep within.<br/><br/>Challenging norms and base urges. Making them<em>dance</em>.<br/><br/>A small, tight smile is on my lips now and I know it. One that has been there before. One that meant a challenge was accepted and that some form of competition would not be denied. And I always won. Because who do you think taught these children to be greedy in the first place?<br/><br/>With the boxes forming a wall that only reveal the uppermost pieces of sultry body’s to the couples, I ease back down into the chair and shift all the way to the back, spreading my thighs wide and indicating that Charli  should perch herself on the chair inbetween them. We’ve eaten many times like this before. She feeding me, or me feeding her. Murmuring about our day together. For two slim women, it is an easy and intimate position to use when play is at hand.<br/><br/>And my hands knew how to play. Expertly.<br/><br/>While Charli’s hands are busy pulling cheesy goodness from its home and onto our plates, my chin rests on her shoulder, watching the children across from us. Their expressions. Reading. Wondering. And then my eye is drawn to the bosom that is barely contained by gunmetal grey material. One that extends down to hips and an ass, and thighs. Thighs that my hands are sliding up at the moment, encasing. And then to the hem of the skirt, inching it higher beneath the table. Knowing that my wife would be wearing next to nothing underneath. Knowing my hands could do the Devil’s work there.<br/><br/>