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And I could tell Ally knew. She smiled at me as we ate, Jonah blabbering on and on about this and that, but the girl didn’t say much. In fact, she was pretty much a model guest, eating a little of everything, murmuring how good the food was. But just as I dug into my turkey, I felt it then. A flutter, a small nudge against my foot.
My breath stopped for a moment. Holy shit, it’d been ages since I’d played footsie under the table, probably the last time had been when I was fifteen with the nubile and beautiful Betty Harmon. But shit, I had another nubile, beautiful girl with me, and it was the perfect way to distract myself from Jonah’s monologue, which at this point had launched into a nonsensical explanation of Chinese history which was frankly wrong on most points.
“Did you know that each Emperor had many empresses?” he boasted, digging into the creamed spinach. “Each emperor could marry as many women as he liked, I’m into that,” he smirked, staring at Ally.
And she smiled beatifically back.
“Oh, I’m not sure if they had that many empresses,” she said, “I think they had concubines right? Like women who they weren’t married to, but who they kept around as courtesans.”
At that moment, I could feel her soft foot creep up my calf, stroking the muscle there. Holy shit, it felt so good and I stiffened under the table, knife clattering slightly as I cut into my meat. But my son was clueless, frowning at the perceived challenge to his intelligence.
“I guess,” he muttered. “What’s the difference anyways, concubine versus empress? It’s all the same, they were highborn ladies.”
And Ally smiled beatifically again, her foot going higher on my leg, moving across my knee now. Holy shit, this was so wrong. We were at the table with her boyfriend, my son, and yet her softness was traveling over my flesh, going closer and closer, edging up the vee of my thighs.
I harrumphed slightly, turning it into an awkward cough.
“Naw, it’s different,” I drawled. “An empress is a wife, with her own station and her own duties, a royal with the privileges that accompany the position. While a concubine,” and here I hacked slightly again, like I’d just choked on a piece of broccoli, “is a woman kept in the palace for sex.”
And right on the word “sex,” Ally’s foot touched my groin, slowly stroking my cock through my pants. Shit, it felt so good, the way she caressed the aching curve, how it popped out under her soft touch, ready to do damage. But shit, this couldn’t go anywhere, she was on the opposite side of the table from me. We were too far apart to actually get dick in pussy or even her hand on my cock, so I forced myself to picture the dry, barren dessert, or a particularly ugly camel, anything to get my erection to go down.
“Jonah, where were you planning on going for Spring Break?” I asked through gritted teeth, changing the topic, trying to seem as normal as possible.
And of course, my lunkhead son was only too happy to talk about himself.
“I was thinking Bali or Tahiti, some place warm and nice,” he began, picking at a tiny bit of turkey stuck in his teeth as he mused the possibilities. “Or maybe Bora Bora, I’ve heard there’s amazing snorkeling there.”
Of course, he couldn’t swim, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up. Because Ally had “accidentally” dropped a spoonful of corn on the floor, gasping as her hand flew to her lips.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said with mock-wretchedness, the golden kernels spread all over like a splatter painting. “I’ll pick it up,” she said, immediately on her knees.
“No need,” I growled. I didn’t want the little girl to act like a maid, we had one coming over tomorrow, it was fine to leave the mess until then. But at that moment, I felt soft hands on my crotch, undoing my belt, unzipping me so that I popped out full mast. Holy shit? Was this really happening? Was the little girl touching my dick under the table, shit, oh shit, yep, she’d just slid me into her mouth, her wet cavern so soft, suckling me deep, right there at the Thanksgiving table.
And I let out another hacking cough, face going red seeing how the air had just been vacuumed from my lungs.
“You okay?” asked Jonah suspiciously, eyeing me. “Ally, get out from under there, there’s no need, the maid’s coming tomorrow,” he called.
And oh god, but the little girl had to pop me out of her mouth first before answering.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said from beneath the table, a soft finger tracing my hardness. “I’ll be done in just a minute, there’s just a little more corn left.”
