Under the Table

"C'mon."

He wasn't really looking at me, he was looking around the club and giving me a little pressure on my back. He didn't really have an expression, so I gave in. It made me wet.

I slipped under the table without turning to the side, just sliding down so I could feel the edge of the booth seat on my lower back, sliding down so my dress rode up. The floor was clearer than I expected, the carpet was expensive, the table just a little lower than would've been comfortable. He had his hand on the inside of his thigh, I could see the bulge, he didn't wear boxers or briefs.

I slid my hand up his shin, he liked it and slid down a little more in the seat. I undid his belt, it clinked, there wasn't really enough room to make it easy. I unbuttoned and unzipped, pausing to drag my nails down his thigh. I wondered how obvious it was that I was under there, it was dark and the table cloth hung down low, but my dress was short and I hadn't planned to kneel.

"Good." He tried to find the back of my head to urge me, he liked that, it made him feel even more like he was in control.

He wasn't hard yet, just chubby, his cock laid across his leg, lolling like some sleeping animal. I held it, feeling his balls against my hand and my pinky on the down stroke as I started getting him ready. He sighed, audible even to me, when my hot wet tongue kissed the inside of his thigh, the cleft betweeen his leg and torso, and then everywhere but where he liked it, under the head, to get him anticipating the rest.

He stroked my hair, I held his cock in my mouth, a few inches of it without licking or sucking, just letting him grow rock hard. With the first tentative undulation of my tongue, he was almost there. That's when the other pair of legs appeared, sliding up beside him and barely missing my knees. It was a red dress, white thong and black strappy four-inch heels.

I couldn't hear what he said, she was pushing up against him, he didn't miss a beat. He put his hand over mine, the one that was resting on his knee, and lifted it. He put it on her knee, sliding it up her thigh as her legs parted.

"Jesus." She whispered as I cupped her as well as I could at that angle, feeling the heat and the wetness all at once, smelling her ever so lightly over his musk.

His other hand pressed on my head, I sucked, stroking him as I moved my fingers to the inside of her lace. My revenge to him was not flinching as he would've wanted, he was big on overcoming reluctance.

Hard fleshy meat, soft shaven folds, hairless on her and curled pubic hair on him. The masculine and the feminine, overcoming my senses, I felt the tingle stir again between my legs. I stroked him while I tasted my fingers, she parted her legs as further invitation, I moved to her as I held him. I'd never been this close to a woman before, her smooth thighs tasted like some kind of sweet powder, like cake frosting. Her breath caught in her throat, I assumed he was kissing her. I wanted to kiss her, so, I kissed her.

I did the things that I liked being done to me, burying my tongue and feeling the slightest bit of suction. She had small lips, I pulled at them with my tongue, only a tiny part of my brain reserved for his pleasure. I touched her stomach under the cloth, one breast with the table pressing against my forearm, the dress holding me to her. She came, he came onto my arm with a warm sticky splash. She became wetter, 'gooey' would be a good word, 'juicy' a better one.

I found the number, tucked in my bra, that I'd planned to slip to the bartender. I had planned to diversify my interests, but this seemed better. I slipped it into the heart design on the front of her thong so he wouldn't know, but she felt it, her hand over mine.

She was gone before I came out from under the table.

Wiping off my arm with a cocktail napkin and taking a sip of my drink like nothing had happened.