Thanksgiving Tryst

James tried hard to stare at his wife across the thanksgiving table, but the universe was conspiring to make that very difficult.

First, his wife was refusing to look at him. She was mad because... what was it this time? His family didn't make mashed potatoes right? No, that was yesterday. She wasn't getting enough time with the kids because they were spending too much time with their grandparents? No, that was last night. The kids were spending too much time with her and she needed someone to take them? No, that was this morning.

Oh right. He had worn the wrong color shirt to Thanksgiving dinner and now she was going to have to photoshop all their pictures. That was it.

But the bigger imposition to his staring lovingly into his wife's eyes, was the fact that her sister was sitting right next to him.

He kept telling himself that yesterday afternoon had actually been a wild dream. That he had slipped in the tub and hit his head. But whether it was fact or fiction, he was finding it impossible to keep his eyes from flitting to Tish's gorgeous body every moment they could.

Today she was wearing a lowcut white tennis dress. His eyes darted over as he passed the (improperly cooked according to Laronda) mashed potatoes, and lingered on her sharp collarbone showing clearly under her smooth midnight skin.

Damn, she is so skinny! I bet her pussy is tight as a... No. You are married. Focus up. Look at your wife.

He glanced quickly back across the table to see if Laronda had seen his treasonous eyes, but she was studiously ignoring him, talking animatedly to his uncle Bill to her left.

"Well actually the agro-processing industry is more interesting than most people realize."

She must be really pissed to be listening to one of Bill's tirades.

James turned to grab another plate, and couldn't help noticing Tish buttering an ear of corn, by taking a slice of bread covered in butter and rubbing it up and down that ear... up and down ... up and-

"You want me to butter your corn too?" Tish said, looking into his eyes, but never stopping rubbing the corn with her slender fingers. He could feel another ear of corn growing between his legs. He was thankful for the long tablecloth that covered his entire lap.

"I... Uh... what?"

"Your corn." She said, putting her hand on his thigh and leaning closer, her long nails pinching his skin gently. "It looks dry. Want me to ... butter it for you?"

James looked around. Everyone else was immersed in their own conversations. He felt a painful bulge swelling beneath his jeans.

He let out an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

Tish took her hand off his leg, and brushed her fork onto the ground.

"Oops! Let me get that.” She said, pushing out her chair and crawling under the table.

As much as he expected it, James was still shocked when he felt her long fingers slowly unzip his pants and ease his cock out into the open air. It sprung to attention, feeling the freedom and the soft caress of Tish's fingers.

Fuck, this can't be happenign. What if someone sees? He thought. But god damn if it didn't feel good just to be touched!

Tisha climbed back out from under the table, scooting her chair in so that it was right next to his. Her right hand lingered in James's lap. He hunched over his food to hide her hand from view.

James stabbed a slice of turkey with his fork as her fingers gently circled his tip, her soft mahogany skin against his hard ivory cock, her long nails sending chills up his spine as they moved gently up and down his length. He could feel the blood rushing to his crotch making him lightheaded.

He took a bite of mashed potatoes and pretended to be listening to his uncle's story about the time he almost met Jim McCleery, the CEO of what was apparently a very important agricultural machine parts company. He did his best to keep his face impassive as Tish's fingers closed slowly around the base of his member, gripping it tighter and tighter. He chewed the mashed potatoes with unparalleled vigor.

James's eyes looked over at Tisha just for a moment, and caught a glimpse of her gently licking a slab of jellied cranberry sauce from a can that she had suspended from her fork. Her head was turned away, but her thin, dark, muscular arm still snaked beneath the table where she was beginning to move her hand ever so slowly up and down his length, keeping a tight and firm grip on him.

Oh fuck. He thought as the pleasure started crusading through his body like a stampeding horse.

James gripped his fork hard and drove it vigorously into a pile of stuffing. He tried in vain to turn his attention to what his father was saying. Something about the stock market and prices rising...

But there was only thing that James could think about rising as it pulsed stiffer and stiffer in Tish's hand. He tried to cover his soft moans by shoving more stuffing in his face.

"MMMhph. MMph. MMMM."

Tish's hand gripped him like a vice, moving steadily, insistently up and down his length. He desperately wanted her to go faster, to let him cum, but he knew that anything more would surely expose them to everyone at the table.

As James took a large bite of sweet potato casserole, he froze. He felt a tingling rise up from his extremities to center on his crouch. He knew what was about to happen. His legs were tensing, his taint was squeezing tightly, all the blood was draining from the rest of his body.

How am I going to explain this to my family? FUCK!/

He grabbed Tish's arm forcefully, as he concentrated all his willpower on suppressing the orgasm. On keeping it inside. He felt his seed pressing to escape. No, no no! Every muscle in his body was squeezing. He could feel his face turning red. His fork scraped the plate as he tried to envision anything but Tish's beautiful sleek black body. Her dark perky nipples. Her long well-muscled calves. Her tiny shaved pussy....

No! That's not what I need to be thinking about!

Of course, it was at that moment that his uncle decided to involve him in his conversation.

"What about you James? What's your favorite brand of hydromulcher?"

"I uhh.. the grrr... hmm.."

“Are you choking James?” Laronda asked, staring at him.

James was afraid for a moment that he would lose it there under the table, but as soon as he saw his wife's furious stare of disapproval, which said, "don't embarrass me you idiot" his cock went from the edge of cumming to limp in a second.

"Cough. I’m fine. I- I'm sure I am not nearly the expert on them that you are uncle Bill." He said. "Why don’t you tell me about the pros and cons of the different models?"

"Well, it’s all about the application, where are you going to..."

James immediately tuned out Bill's ramblings and slowly reached his hand down to tuck his penis back into his pants. He could feel the dull ache in his balls as he did so. God he wanted to cum so badly. He glanced at Tish, but she was turned away from him, talking to Peggy.

He looked up and saw the scorn on Laronda's face, felt the pain, the need in his balls, and made a decision.

He wanted to. He needed to. He was going to fuck Tish like there was no tomorrow.

He just had to find the right opportunity.

Thursday: Thanksgiving