Under the Table

A hand fell onto my inner thigh. I shook slightly in surprise, but not so much that anyone noticed. It began to work its way down to my knee and back up again.

Here's the situation: I was having dinner at Tattaglia's, an upscale Italian place, with my parents and a few family friends. These friends, they were a family from out of state and my parents had helped them move in next door while I was away. There was the father, Scott, who was a dentist; the mother, Debbie, a stay-at-home; the son, Harry, a graduate student at some obscure university whose name I had already forgotten; but it was the daughter, Lauren, who was the focus of this event for me. She was an aspiring model who had done some ads for catalogs and such, but it wasn't her cred as a model that concerned me, it was if she looked the part. And she did: her baby blue blouse and tight jeans that looked as if she were sewn into them accentuated her voluptuous body. Her dirty blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders and framed her curves. Everything had gone fairly normally up until now: we introduced ourselves, conversed, ordered, ate bread, and began to dig into our appetizers.

Now, there was a hand stroking my leg. Its touch felt electric. It began to move up until it hit the crease in between my thigh and my crotch. I began to grow hard. I didn't know what was so alluring about me that a girl like her would do this -- maybe she was just slutty, or maybe she was playing around. No, she was serious -- her fingers began to brush against my dick. I grew harder. Now she applied pressure and I was at full mast.

Then I began to think of the consequences of the situation. Would anyone see what was happening under the table? Would anyone notice her arm movements? Would I make funny faces and give myself away? Worse, would I...would I cum right there in my pants in front of everyone?