Maybe her niece will share.

Lynn giggles at the thought, feeling the flush of the wine in her face, and the heat from the young man sitting next to her. He exudes the heat of lean musculature, of dusky foreign lands, of gold domes glinting in exotic sunsets and kept women half-clad in silk prostrating themselves before young rich lords with long hard erections.

The young man and her niece are locked in their own little world speaking their own little French, to the complete exclusion of all others and yet she does not believe that it is his focus that allows her left hand to stay on his thigh, to scratch it, nail on denim, ever so gently as he leans slightly away, not enough to lose her hand, but enough to kiss her niece as she wants to be kissed, as she will be kissed, she vows, before the night has ended.

There is a hand on her own thigh, a knowing hand, pushing between her thighs, gently opening her, pressing her, exciting her. It is her husband's hand, but she imagines it as his hand, her niece's fiance's hand, the hand with the long, dark, and she is sure, from the look on her niece's face, skillful fingers. For his hands have also disappeared beneath the restaurant table, and her niece's pale blue eyes are wide, her sensuous lips are parted, the tip of her tongue is visible between her perfect teeth and her skin, her smooth, pale, lightly freckled skin is beginning to flush toward the bright orange of her luxurious curly hair.

Lynn turns slightly to the left, away from her husband, regretting only for a second the loss of the pressure of her husband's hand, turns toward her niece and her niece's fiance, watching them intently. Lynn wants them both. She wants to lie next to them, naked on their bed, playing with herself as she watches them fucking, watches them come, and then kisses them both, quite tenderly. Lynn wonders if her fantasies are obvious to the others at the table, if her excitement is as obvious as her niece's, if anyone is staring. Suddenly feeling quite exposed, and on display, she turns her head just enough to see who else is watching. Her sister-in-law is talking to her parents but her brother, her brother, the perpetually young blond letch, has dropped out of that conversation and is staring, openly and lustfully, across the table at his niece.

Usually Lynn finds her brother's shenanigans child-like, at best amusing, slightly annoying, for reasons she has never cared to analyze, but tonight she is intrigued, perhaps because it is a shared emotion, perhaps because the look on his face is a look she has never seen before, an adult lust, an animal lust, removed from the complications of his bitter, ignoring wife. Lynn is pleased for him to see that look, she wonders even what it would be like to have her brother look at her like that, she wonders if he is hard.

She recoils, disturbed at herself for having such a thought, and yet too intrigued to give it up. She needs to escape, to clear her head, to remove herself from the table. She turns away from her niece and her niece's fiance, faces the table, her legs spread, her hand still on her niece's fiance's thigh, her husband's hand back between her legs, pressing more intently. She is reassured. She needs to latch on to her husband, to keep from drifting into the fantasy and the wine and the thoughts that disturb her. She puts her right hand on her husband's left leg, but still she is unable to remove her left hand from her niece's fiance's right leg. She sits like that for a moment, facing the table, her legs spread, her arms spread, the pressure of her husband's hand pushing her further into the dream state, unable to look anywhere except the beautiful boyish face of her brother. Her right hand steals into her husband's lap. He is hard. She can feel him through his jeans. She presses down with her palm and strokes him with the fingers of her right hand, pretends not to know what her own left hand is doing, concentrates on the connection to her husband, to her husband's erection, to his obvious desire for her, for the bond they share, all the while staring into her brother's face, stroking the thigh of niece's fiance, feeling her husband stiffen, panic, knowing he is going to come, in his pants, in the restaurant, in front of her family, feels her husband's cock begin to spurt beneath the pressure of her knowing hand, imagines it is her niece's fiance's cock, imagines it is her brother's.

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