Beneath the Table by Sarah Sherwood
It is dawn. I am awakening, the birds are sounding their notes, but I am listening to the sensations the bedsheets are creating as I shift & stretch myself against them.
I am alone. This is interesting. The children are not here, neither is my husband, gone out possibly, for an early morning run.
I listen. No tap running, no toilet seat clanking, no padding of no-longer-small feet up or down the halls? I stretch again, this time noticing more. I feel delicious.
A tingly release of energy surges pleasantly along my calves as I rock them slowly back & forth across the bottom of my bed. Another tingle stretches across my abdomen as I raise my arms to the ceiling, feel their strength. Yesterday’s workout is doing its job well.
On a wisp of a whim, I reach between my legs without commitment; I will be interrupted momentarily, I always am.
Oh, what a dream I must have been having! I find myself deliciously soft!
I linger a moment, listening again to the ticking, weekend sounds of my home. There is no signal that anyone else is here. Should I be alarmed? No, all is perfect, I let myself decide.
I try to call back that elusive dream by relaxing onto my pillow, closing my eyes, wandering my fingers… but it doesn’t come. Such a tease.
I reach instead for a story from my imagination, hmmm, haven’t told myself a story in quite a while…
One story fits my mood exactly.......
I preside over an outrageously formal dinner party, at the head of a table that stretches yards and yards away from me into the elegant distance. The scene is set sometime in 18th century Europe and we are all resplendent in our period finery. There are footmen beside each guest and the table is laden with a bounteous feast, exquisitely presented in finely wrought silver, gold, crystal & porcelain. The table is dripping with the most extraordinary candelabras and flowers. It is also necessarily draped in the finest, thickest linen, as it is this which hides my delight!
Tucked secretly hours earlier beneath the table is my oh-so-eager lover. A handsome youth, absolutely besotted with me, he begs for whatever moments I can spare him, which are necessarily and unapologetically few.
This arrangement, however, suits us both well, as he takes these opportunities to demonstrate his worthiness by lavishing his patient and by-now considerable attentions upon me unrushed for hours, whilst I dutifully bestow my attention elsewhere.
Tonight I tingle with unusual anticipation. I have looked forward to this more than is my custom. Is he there? Has he been discovered? Those are steep moments indeed, all my senses extending, a tender anxiety suffusing and suspending me upon tenterhooks for a terrible, delicious interval.
And then, ahhhh… he makes himself known to me, by nothing more than a breath across my bare ankle, a whisper against my crinolines.
Something primal sluices down through me.
All the while I smile agreeably, nodding at my self-important guests, engaged just sufficiently to allow them the illusion of interest, providing the small excuses they require to hold forth with their pleasantries, complaints, diatribes…
He is, I grant him, a master of calling me forth. My body strains to receive some input, to sense him by any means…
The first course is suddenly served, dozens of platters arriving simultaneously. It consists of soups and stews, vegetables and boiled fish and meats arranged around a grand centerpiece. My appetite is curiously nowhere to be found.
I have seated my guests of least stature closest to me, so as to afford my lover the most room possible for his secret activities. I imagine him in his dimly lit forest of stocking-clad legs and billowing skirts, negotiating his place, slowly maneuvering his limbs to accommodate the table legs, his intentions…
Ahhh! He begins! At his indescribably longed-for touch, I sigh audibly and am misunderstood by the gentleman to my left; he inquires after my health…
My lover meantime is slowly, reverently removing my punishing silk shoes! This bold intimacy is new. Tenderly he holds my foot in the palm of his powerful hand, encasing it with the other hand laid coyly on top. I sense his nervousness; he must scarcely believe his own temerity!
Slowly, he begins to caress the unhappy flesh beneath his hands. I can feel his earnest breath upon me, his pretty face bent to his task. His soft, strong hands seem to know just where to rub, where to push and where to pause. This goes on and on…
Without warning, he slips my littlest toe into his mouth!
With practice, I have learned to camouflage minor, unintended sounds of pleasure in and among those small noises of gaiety and approval men of court are so eager to interpret as delighted responses to their witticisms. But this! This was no small note, but an entire chord of exhilaration! Incredibly, I remain unsuspected.
He is still. The warmth & wetness of this unforeseen embrace is almost not to be tolerated. I shift in my chair, picking up my fan. Immediately, my untouched food is removed, ice-cold water is delivered, my butler catches my eye inquiringly. “Is the food not acceptable?” his eyes ask! I nod and release him from his doubt.
I sigh, so much power, so much contingent upon my approval. And yet, it is this divine creature at my feet pulling the strings just now….
My lover’s greedy mouth is on the move, his clever lips, teeth and tongue exercising themselves upon each toe in turn, savoring each secret cavern between them. I shiver.
I feel him shift closer. Ready to be in charge again, I swing my free foot in the direction of where I think his lap should be, a daring hand catches & restrains me! Without relinquishing me, he returns to his erotic errand…
The second course arrives with a flourish; the footmen have been instructed to be dramatic, uncovering impressive and expensive feats of the culinary art with a whoosh of silver, a flash of ruffled sleeve, which they do, in perfect unison. I smile at my guests.
Below table, my paramour’s succulent mouth and hands seem to be everywhere at once, traveling ever higher. I am deliciously aroused and my body wants to rise, in response to this exquisitely deliberate journey, to press itself to him with force. But cannot…
He has assumed what I imagine is a comfortable position beneath my skirts, one he has, on other occasions, spent hours in. His face is so close now I can feel a smooth cheek flit against one thigh and then the other. His breath is upon me, as are his hands, such a wonderfully beseeching pressure, asking me to come to him, to open.
In a mildly delirious haze, I extend myself toward him, imperceptively clenching my buttocks, rolling my thighs outward, I ooze forward, feeling as a flower unfurling itself to the sun…
There is a sudden pause, which leaves me in a state of hot disapproval. And then, from the unwelcome stillness, there emerges an impression of vaguely meticulous activity involving my undergarments. In no hurry and decidedly indifferent to the shift in my temper, this wayward rogue is carefully rolling my petticoats up and away, their weight disappearing, as they are somehow pinned on either side of my now widely-parted and wholly exposed thighs.
I feel the intensity of his gaze upon my nethers, and am completely unable to prevent its liquid response. He is close again now, no longer beseeching but claiming me! His hands are stopping me as I attempt to close myself to him! He is so strong, I am no match! My anger swells, yet my desire swells larger still…
Regally erect above table, I am near panic. I am free neither to expose nor even to resist him! Until now, he has been inconsequential in his servicing of me. Until now, I have had no trouble practicing my charade upon the crowd.
But now! Now I am being put to the test, now I must acknowledge the power he has been acquiring unseen, unbeknownst even to me. He has come to understand me more than I know…
Mustering my considerable poise, I attempt a bite of pheasant.
“Is that his tongue?!” I choke! And the answer is upon me, “No it is not, it cannot be!”
Something incorporeal, large and smooth has been slipped into me, sliding easily past my swollen lips. His fingers?! It is disconcertingly difficult to tell.
Whatever it is, it is moving, curving on its quest into my depths and up, up and having found the tender place, sliding back. There is more motion than I can identify, more of a delicious pressure inside me just there, building, building as the sliding swing of this incredible penetration sweeps smoothly into me again and again!
And now he has returned to me as well, his warm familiar face lowered to me in the exquisitely sealed kiss I am longing for! He encases my aching vulva, focusing his tongue’s frenzy upon my engorged pearl! And all the while, the intromission continues in its gorgeous, steady flowing motion, without jolt or interruption.
“How” I try to think, “is he doing this?”
But I am so lost in an ecstasy of saturated sensations I cannot name, I cannot think! I am had so entirely that it feels as though he has harnessed my very soul and is galloping along with me to the very ends of the earth!
I am frozen, ever muscle clenched against discovery, my eyes, I fear, are overly wide, though I am longing to surrender, to close them and slip beneath the table to join this masterful man! I am so entirely caught up in the brilliant wedding of this compelling suction and glorious penetration that I at once fear it, and fear it ending even more!
And then everything slips away, the room, the man, my anger, my fear, as I am tipped over my brink, and I am falling, floating, moving deliciously away from all concern.
And, unsurprisingly, as I arrive, so do my tribe. I hear them far away in the bowels of the house, discarding what sounds like piles and piles of gear. I close my eyes, savoring this small personal victory, happily flushed and just a bit breathless.
Quite soon, they are upon me, red-cheeked, offering up their own stories, each equally ecstatic with the snow I hadn’t even noticed blanketing the world around us.
And as I hold my family’s center, suffused with a sense of peaceful contentment, receiving and reflecting them, I know that we are all beneficiaries of my life beneath the table.
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