Date Night

"Thank you," I whisper back to you. As I take a sip of my drink, you gently swipe the tip of my cock from the side making it bounce side to side, causing me to nearly choke and spill the sip I was taking. You then pat my chair and glance down at it, obviously implying, "Take your seat." So I do.

As I sit down, you switch your drink to your left hand and bring the right hand down to grab the shaft of my cock. **COLD** I jump a little, and you giggle in response to my reaction. Within seconds, your hand warms, and I settle back into my seat. Taking another sip of my drink, you use your thumb to rub some precum off the tip of my cock. You run your thumb around and around, spreading the lube all over, greasing it up good and slick.

You then whisper to me, "Use your right hand to replace mine." Since I'm seated on your right, this is my farther away hand. I move my hand to my cock and feel your hand release as I grab hold. However, you don't lose contact with my cock, but merely slide up the shaft.

You then whisper into my ear rather firmly, "Don't move, and don't make a sound." Then you start running your flattened palm around and around my greased up cock-head, causing my eyes to shoot wide open. My head falls back. My breath comes in sharply, and I instantly begin to sweat. Straining to hold still and keep quiet, my breathing becomes labored as you continue palming the greased tip of my cock. The sensation causes even more precum to leak out giving you more lube to continue palming me. Alternating between light and firm pressure, my labored breathing becomes a deep panting. My chest is rising and falling heavily. You continue your work as you lean into me, close to my ear you whisper, "Sssshhhhhh. No sound."

I close my mouth in attempt to quiet my breathing, causing my nose to flare open to allow maximum air flow. Sweat running down my forehead, you continue on for a few more seconds.

Then suddenly, I hear roaring applause. You stop the palming and settle back into your seat and start clapping with the rest of the audience. I just sit there, chest heaving, looking over at you as you applaud with the rest of the audience, completely ignoring me for the moment.

As I catch my breath, the audience settles down. I think to myself, apparently they were just applauding the end of a song or something, not the end of a scene. The audience quickly hushes again, and I hear renewed dialogue from the main stage.

Only then, after the audience is hushed do you look over at me and smile. You then lean over to me and quietly ask, "What just happened in the play?" As if I wasn't already beaten up both physically and mentally at this point, now I'm totally sunk. I know a punishment is inevitable. I haven't heard more than three words of dialogue since the waitress left the box. I haven't even looked at the stage. After a brief pause, I open my mouth hoping the correct answer will come out. But nothing does. No divine intervention to save me.

Your look changes slightly, and your brow furls a bit as you look me in the eyes. You straighten up and whisper in a disappointed tone, "Wrong Answer."

My head drops in defeat. I know I'm toast. I have no idea of your plans for punishment, and feel deep regret at failing to provide a correct answer. Obviously, there is no way I'd know the answer, and you're undoubtedly aware of this fact. However, we both know this doesn't matter. I failed the test, and punishment will ensue as your earliest convenience.

You reach down and slap my hand away from my cock, and you turn away from me to watch the show. I cower in shame, defeat, disappointment. My head still down, I stare at my lap

and watch as my cock slowly begins to deflate. I deeply regret my failure.

After a few moments, you look over at me pouting and grab me by the neck, pulling my ear close to your mouth. "Well, if you're not going to watch the play then, make yourself useful." You then pull me out of my chair and push my head between your thighs. I know what to do from here as I scoot forward and get to work cleaning up the mess from your last orgasm and start walking you toward another climax. Minutes pass by, and your juices are flowing steadily now. I alternate working my tongue in circles on your clit, then licking the edges of your slit up and down, then probing deep inside, then back to your clit.......

I've felt you wade through a series of small climaxes, each getting bigger and stronger, but now you're holding back, letting this one build. Suddenly, I feel your legs start to tremble. Your abdominal muscles start to quiver. Your thighs squeeze around my head covering my ears. And then *guuuuusssshhhh*. You squirt cum into my face and mouth like a fire hose. I feel you hold my head in place as you spasm over and over and over. No longer able to hear, not able to see anything from under your skirt, it's all I can do to keep up with drinking your juices down as fast as I can. I'm doing my best not to drown, and I'm sure that my shirt must be a total, wet mess now.

After a few moments, you open your legs to allow me to move, I lick your thighs and do my best to clean up the mess. I hear the crowd buzzing softly, as if they'd just been applauding, and now they're finding their seats again. You apparently timed the orgasm to coincide with something in the show to conceal any sounds you made.

I slightly bump into your pussy as I continue my cleanup, and your breath catches. You clear your throat and push my head away. As I come up for air, I see you pat my seat next to you.

A few minutes pass by. It could be two or twenty from my perspective. I have no idea how long I was under your skirt. Suddenly, my peripheral vision catches you shifting in your seat

as you cross and uncross your legs, scooting slightly so that your legs are pointing in my general direction. The sight of your thigh highs and boots causes an instinctive stir in my stomach. I can't take my eyes off of your legs, and my already hardened cock stirs slightly. After I've stared at you for a moment, I see your hand come into my view and feel your index finger under my chin as you shift my gaze to your face. You look into my eyes and give just the hint of a smile as you whisper, "That was good work, but your punishment is still coming. You might as well enjoy the rest of the show with me." As you say that, you graze my left calf with the toe of your boot, running it up and down slightly. My eyes light up as your smile returns, and I know that while I may be temporarily forgiven, you certainly will not forget my transgression.

We then both turn to watch the stage and enjoy the show. A few minutes later, I've gotten back into the plot of the characters when suddenly I feel your hand reach over and caress my thigh. A moment later it moves over to my hard cock. It jump a little from the warm, loving touch, and I look over in your direction. You don't even look back as you continue handling my meat with a slight grin on your face while you watch the show on stage. After a moment I turn back to watch the show, wondering if the next intermission will be here soon. And if so, what will the waitress do. Will she knock again? Will she just walk in? Will it be a different waitress? Endless possibilities. My mind bounces back and forth between thinking about the waitress and the incredible feeling your hand is causing on my cock. Time becomes a blur for me.

Suddenly, you redouble your efforts on my cock jacking super fast. My ears happen to notice that the noise from the production is increased as the band plays thundering music. The song's intensity and volume take on a quick crescendo, and my arousal follows right along with it. Then I unexpectedly reach the edge or ecstacy just as you pull your hand away. And the music stops. Silence. A few seconds pass, and then more dialogue on stage. As the actors begin speaking again, I notice that I'm not breathing, so I exhale. I have no idea how long I was holding my breath. The urgency to cum had passed, but only barely. As I begin breathing again, I come back to my senses and I turn my head toward you.

You're smiling from ear to ear at your well-timed edge. The precision of your manipulation of my cock was sheer perfection, as if you'd practiced that exact song and that exact stroke and my

exact level of arousal a hundred times. Finally, you speak to me whispering a bit firmly now, "It's time for your punishment."

Completely taken aback, my mood swings again toward that dark place. I start to get lost in it when I notice you smile as you whisper in my ear, "Don't worry. You're going to like this." And then you giggle, letting me know to stay away from that dark place. You then reach down and gently grab my cock again. You begin a feather-light stroking on just the head with your fingertips. It's just enough to bring me back to full hardness and start back up the ramp toward another edge, but you slow down long before I reach the edge. You stroke to merely maintain my arousal level rather than increase it. A moment later you lean forward and whisper into my ear for a few seconds.

It seems as if I can barely hear you, and you stop whispering. We both lean back in our seats and straighten as we make eye contact. You just smile at me and nod. I struggle to put together what you just said and can't believe what I think I heard. Did you just say that? Are you serious? Did I hear you correctly?

You then lean back into me and repeat it in a barely audible whisper. I stare back at you dumbfounded. Total disbelief. Again you smile and nod to me as you whisper, "Begin." Slowly, I rise slightly from my seat and turn it slightly away from the stage, slightly away from the door. It's almost facing toward the audience of the theater. I sit back down almost facing you now, and I catch a glimpse of your incredible breasts. My gaze continues downward to your incredible legs and those fantastic, black, knee length, high heel boots. The sight is too much, and I happily reach with my right hand and begin slowly stroking my cock.

You completely ignore the show on the stage as you have a front row seat to the show in your private theater box. You smile at me, almost a laughing smile as I pick up speed. You cross and uncross your legs, giving me a brief glimpse of your pussy. That does the trick as now I'm nearly at the edge. You pull out your cell phone and run your hand across the screen a couple of times. Then press the screen some times and then show it to me.

It shows a timer, winding down from twenty minutes. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I put the last pieces of the barely audible puzzle together. You then stand up and set the clock on your seat, propping it up against the backrest so that I can see it winding down. When it hits 19 minutes I look up to you and whisper, "Edge." You just smile back at me and begin applauding with the rest of the audience as the lights come up in the theater.

I look around panicked again. I can't believe it. You've instructed me to edge every two minutes, pausing thirty seconds in between, until you say to stop. And it's going to be during the intermission! When the clock reads 18:30 I begin stroking again, knowing I have 90 seconds to get back to the edge. Or in my case, I have to stroke for the next 90 seconds without getting to the edge.

Just as the clock hits 18:10 I hear the dreaded *knock knock knock*. Oh no. I'd totally forgotten about the waitress!! I look over at the door and see you standing in front of it as you pull it open.

I continue stroking, being careful to stay away from the edge as I watch you chat with the waitress. It appears to be the same girl, and I don't think she can see me. I feel a bit of relief thinking that you're ordering the drinks and sending her on her way. I look back at the clock and it reads 17:25. Just 25 seconds until my next edge. I begin stroking faster in an effort to hit the edge at the precise time. Watching the seconds tick down one by one, I speed up my stroking. Five, four, three, two, one, "Edddggggeee," I gasp and stop stroking.

I turn to look at you in the doorway, and I almost fall out of my seat. I see you standing inside the box watching me, smiling, but with the door wide open, and the waitress standing there

watching me too!! I can only imagine the look of horror on my face as you both begin to chuckle and giggle like teenagers. You both share a glance as you finish giggling, and then you look back to me. Still in shock, I notice you nod over toward your chair. I look and see the clock says 16:35. Oh no, I have to start stroking again in five seconds. Dread. Humiliation. Intense arousal. All at the same time these emotions hit me, and I instinctively begin stroking again right on cue.

I look back to my audience of two and see the waitress standing where you had been, slowly pushing the door shut as I catch a glimpse of you walking away down the corridor. As the door clicks shut, my mouth drops open, and I stop stroking in shock. I can't believe what's happening.

Then I hear the waitress say sternly, "You'd better get going. I have instructions to report on everything I see while she's gone." Her voice interrupts my train of thought, and the words sink

in. So I start stroking again, slowly, shyly. I look up at the waitress. She flashes a broad smile at me and wiggles her hips which causes her bust to wiggle back and forth too. Only then do I notice what the waitress looks like. Yum.

I look back to the phone clock in the chair and see that I only have 40 seconds to reach the edge, so I start stroking faster. In all the commotion, I'd fallen pretty far from the edge. However, with all that was happening, being in the box of a completely lit theater with a total stranger watching me stroke my cock, having been to the edge countless times in the past two or three hours...... It didn't take more than a few seconds to get back to peak arousal.

Five, four, three, two, one. I look up to the waitress and whisper, "edge," and stop stroking.

Gasping for breath as my arousal slowly begins to fade away, the waitress smiles at me and giggles again, obviously amused by the show I'm providing. She hesitantly takes a look around the theater, likely feeling a bit self conscious for a moment, then she walks forward and picks up the phone. I briefly worry that I won't know when to start again because I can't see the timer, but then she sits down in the chair and holds up the phone where I can see it, just an inch below her cleavage.

I see that it's again nearly time to begin stroking... three, two, one. I begin stroking my cock again. Ninety more seconds until I must reach the edge. With so many things running through my head, I can only stare at the clock. Nothing else matters to me except getting to the edge on schedule. My stroking speeds and slows to control my arousal level so that I don't edge too early when finally, five, four, three, two, one, "Edge." I hear the waitress giggle once more, and it distracts me from my trance. I look up at her, and she's nearly laughing out loud at me. I'm breathing heavily again, straining to hold in my cum. She straightens up, looks me directly in the eyes and says, "This. Is. AWESOME!!"