John’s head was spinning as he tried to process what he had seen. He made a move toward Mary, intent on saying something, anything, to break the tension knotting in his chest. But before he could reach her, Frank, Linda’s brother, materialised at his side.
“John! There you are, mate!” Frank boomed, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. “What do you think of the wine, eh? I picked it myself, perfect pairing for the roast. Let me tell you all about it…”
Frank launched into a long, meandering monologue about vineyards, vintages, and his most recent trip to a wine fair. John nodded absently, his mind elsewhere as he glanced past Frank’s shoulder, hoping to catch Mary’s eye. She had slipped away, her orange dress a flash of colour vanishing down the hall. Frustration gnawed at him as Frank showed no signs of slowing down.
Before long, the others began filtering back into the dining room. Frank’s chatter finally subsided as everyone settled into their seats. The roast was served, and the room filled with the warm, familiar hum of conversation. Linda sat down next to John, her voice low and casual as she sipped her wine.
“Mary’s not feeling well,” she said told the table. “She’s gone to lie down.”
John froze, his fork hovering over his plate as her words sank in. His stomach twisted as a knot of realisation began to form, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
Then, he felt it. Soft hands sliding up his legs. His pulse quickened as those hands moved with deliberate intent, his breath catching as he realised there was no escape.
Slowly carefully the hands unzipped him, sending his heart pounding. He knew he should stop this, knew the risk, the sheer audacity of it, his wife was right there next to him, but the thought of doing so froze in his mind, drowned out by the surge of adrenaline coursing through him.
And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want to stop it.
As her fingers found him, found his already hardening length, a shiver of anticipation raced through him. He clenched his fists under the table, his body tensing as he tried to stay composed. Above the surface, the room buzzed with casual conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses, completely oblivious to the intense action unfolding just beneath the table.
Her delicate fingers were wrapped around his shaft, firm but teasing, stroking him with slow, measured movements that made his pulse quicken. Her other hand cupped his balls gently, her touch exploring, applying just enough pressure to make him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.
Her grip was firm, her movements had a rhythm that was both teasing and demanding. She explored him with a confidence that left him breathless. Every movement was deliberate, as though she were savouring every inch of him.
The sensation of her hands was electrifying, her movements confident and unhurried, each stroke designed to draw him deeper into the moment. Above the table, while John fought to keep his expression neutral Linda’s family continued to eat and chat. He joined in occasionally with a small comment but didn’t trust himself with more than that.
Then her lips joined in and it became much harder to stay composed.
Warm and insistent, they joined her hands, her mouth enveloping his tip with a hunger that surprised him. Her tongue flicked against him, swirling around the sensitive ridge of his glans with a precision that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him. She devoured him with an intensity that made it clear, this was her main course, and she was intent on enjoying every last morsel.
Mary’s movements grew bolder, her lips sliding further down his length, her tongue pressing and teasing in ways that made his muscles tense. She alternated between slow, deliberate sucks and quick, flicking movements that left him teetering on the edge. Her hand worked with her mouth, stroking the base as her tongue worked the tip in perfect synchrony.
She was relentless, devouring him as though this were a feast prepared just for her. Her quiet hum of satisfaction vibrated against him, her enthusiasm making the act all the more intense. John’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to breathe evenly, the forbidden nature of the moment only heightening the sensation. He was utterly at her mercy, the meal she was savouring leaving him weak with pleasure and perilously close to losing control.
John forced himself to focus, gripping his fork and taking a bite of the roast in an effort to appear composed. Across the table, Nigel, Mary’s husband, leaned forward, smiling amiably. “So, John, what do you think of the roast? Linda mentioned she spent a while trying to find the right cut”
“It’s fantastic,” John managed, his voice steady, just. Mary hadn’t slowed, her lips and tongue working him with a skill that left his legs trembling.
Nigel chuckled, slicing into his portion with practiced ease. “It’s a shame Mary isn’t feeling well, she loves meat like this, tender, rich, full of flavour.” He grinned as he popped a piece into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction.
John swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his knife and fork as Mary’s tongue swirled against him. “That’s… a shame she’s missing out tonight,” he said, careful to keep his voice even. He dared not glance down, but he could sense her response. A small, deliberate pause, her lips tightening just slightly as though she were smiling, maybe even laughing silently around him.
Nigel waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, she’ll have some leftovers later. Mary’s not one to skip a good meal.” He took another sip of wine, oblivious to the tension mounting just feet away.
Under the table, Mary’s efforts grew more determined, her lips and tongue working him with an unrelenting rhythm. John’s hands tightened on his utensils as the pressure inside him built to a breaking point, his breathing shallow and uneven. Every flick of her tongue, every squeeze of her hand sent him spiralling closer until he could no longer hold back.
With a suppressed gasp, he exploded into her mouth, his release pulsing in waves as she eagerly took everything he had to give. Her movements didn’t falter, her tongue continuing to swirl and tease as she swallowed him down. John’s body stiffened, his legs trembling beneath the table, but he fought desperately to look normal. He speared a piece of roast with his fork, forcing himself to chew even as his mind swam with the intensity of the moment.
Just as the last shudder rippled through him, Linda turned to him with a teasing smile. “You look like you’re enjoying that,” she said, her voice light and casual.
John froze, panic seizing him for a split second as his mind scrambled for an explanation. But then he caught her gaze, realised she was gesturing to his plate, and exhaled silently. “Yes,” he managed, his voice slightly strained. “It’s excellent.”
Mary didn’t stop until she was sure she had taken every drop, her tongue swirling one last time before she pulled away. John sat stiffly, still trembling as she withdrew beneath the table. His heart pounded, his mind spinning, but somehow, he managed to nod again at Linda, who raised her glass with a knowing smile. “Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said.
John swallowed hard, returning his focus to his plate, though the memory of what had just happened left him buzzing with disbelief and exhilaration.
The chatter in the dining room died down again as the table was cleared. With dessert not ready yet, the family once again scattered to other rooms, leaving John alone near the sideboard. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself after what had just happened. His body still tingled with the aftermath, but his mind was racing, replaying every forbidden detail.
Linda appeared beside him, a glass of wine in her hand, her usual coy smile fixed on her face. “Enjoying the meal?” she asked casually, but there was a glint in her eyes that made him pause.
“Yes,” he replied quickly, his voice sounding oddly high-pitched even to himself. “The roast was great.”
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “And are you looking forward to dessert?” There was something in her tone, soft, suggestive, that made his stomach flip.
“I, uh, yeah. Sure,” he stammered, unsure if he was imagining the intent behind her words.
She tilted her head, studying him, and then her smile widened. “Relax, John. I know,” she said, her voice calm and knowing.
He blinked, confused. “You know?”
