His tail, hidden beneath the tablecloth, was wrapped around the mother-in-law's neck. The scaled appendage, prehensile and strong, held her in place. The grip was firm. Not choking. Controlling. The tail pulled her down onto his cock, held her there, pulled her back up. The motion was mechanical. Precise. The rhythm of a machine designed for pleasure.
The mother-in-law's internal thoughts were chaos.
'No. No no no. She's coming. She's coming down the stairs. I can hear her footsteps. Stop. Stop it. Pull out. Let me go. She'll see. She'll see me here, on my knees, with his cock in my throat, and she'll...'
'GLLMMPH.'
The gag. The wet, guttural sound of a throat being fucked. The sound was muffled by the tablecloth, by the wood, by the distance. But the mother-in-law heard it. Heard herself. The sound of her own degradation, echoing in the small space beneath the table.
'She can't hear. She can't. The table is solid. The cloth is thick. She can't...'
'GLLMMPH. GLLMMPH.'
