Date Night

On some levels, I can't disagree with her. This is pretty incredible. Yet on other levels, I would wholehearted disagree with her. Such devious torture!

Three, two, one. I start stroking again as the dwindling timer hits 12:30. This time, I'm not entranced by the clock. I take a look down and see the waitress has a black skirt and black hose or stockings. Heels on her feet, but not too high because she has to walk around all night. Then a random thought hits me. I'll bet that look around the theater before she sat down was just instinctive. A bar employee isn't supposed to sit down while on their shift. She wasn't looking around the theater to see if I was being watched. She was making sure that no one would see her sit down while on the clock!!

Giggling to myself on the inside, that realization somehow peaks my arousal, and I have to slow down a bit to keep from edging too early. I smile to myself and then look back up at the clock, five, four, three, two, one, "Edge."

I look up to her face again. She's not watching me this time, but looking toward the door. Gasping for breath as I've edged yet again, struggling to hold my cum inside as my arousal faintly subsides, I see you standing in the doorway with your hands folded under your breasts, essentially squeezing them together to exaggerate your cleavage. I swoon a little as I feel my arousal surge, and I have to concentrate to keep the cum in my cock. My breath catches as I almost lose it, and I see you begin to laugh out loud.

You look at the waitress as you say, "I'm not sure, but I think seeing me standing here just made him edge without even touching himself." I then hear the waitress start to giggle again, and it's all I can do keep myself at bay. After a few seconds I finally feel like I can safely breathe again. I take two deep breaths as I compose myself when I hear you say, "Three, two, one, go." I spin my head around and see 10:30 on the clock and start stroking. Slowly. I know I'm not far from the edge as I begin and lightly stroke myself. My balls feel like they're about to burst now. It's

almost as if I'm riding the edge instead of building up to it. There just wasn't enough time to recover this time.

Slowly I continue stroking, again entranced by the clock. Even though I'm watching the clock, it's as if time is moving in slow motion. I hear your voices talking, but I cannot comprehend what you're saying. My entire universe is limited to stroking my cock, watching the timer, and not cumming. After what feels like ten minutes, I finally hear in the background of my trance, "Five, four, three, two, one, stop." I take my hand away and time stands still for a moment. It's like the clock is stuck on 9:00 for a full minute. I'm completely out of it. Every ounce of my being is concentrated on holding in my cum. I don't know if I'm breathing. I don't know if the play has started again. I don't know if my heart is still beating.

Then I feel something pressed to my lips, and they instinctively open. *Cool* Mmmm, Crown and coke. I swallow, take a breath and audibly exhale, "Ahhhhhhhh." I look up and see you standing there smiling down at me, holding my drink in your hand. I blink rapidly a few times, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. It's almost as if I was hypnotized. Then you say to me in a stern voice that is all too familiar, "The timer is moving. Get yourself ready." And suddenly I'm back. I look around, the waitress is just staring at me, eyes wide in disbelief, mouth hanging open just a bit.

I look into her eyes and smile, and she smiles back. I look down at the clock, 8:34. Three, two, one. And I begin stroking again. I note that my orgasm subsided quite a bit this time. The drink really woke up the rest of me. I feel slightly refreshed. I'm able to stroke at a medium, steady pace. And then I see out of the corner of my eye, you stand next to the waitress and lean down and whisper something into her ear.

I look into your eyes as you whisper, with your hand cupping your mouth so I can't read your lips. I then notice a slow smile spread across her lips as she looks away from me and up at you briefly. I then look down and see the time is nearly arrived, so I begin to speed up my stroking to time the edge again. I take in another deep breath. Five, four, three, two, one, "Edge."

Again, I'm breathing deeply, heavily as I take my hand away squeezing my cock to hold the cum inside yet again. This time I reach toward your hand holding my drink. "May I have another sip?"

I notice that the drink is nearly empty now. Perhaps that last drink was more than I thought? You reach out to hand me the drink, and I finish it off in one big gulp. Feeling refreshed again, I look up and hand the empty glass back to you. You return my gaze smiling the widest grin I've seen in weeks. Finding that a bit odd but blowing it off because of our situation, I look down at the clock and see 6:33, 6:32, 6:31, 6:30. Again I start stroking. I notice that the crowd is getting louder now. No doubt, everyone is making their way back into their seats to resume the show.

Somehow, the surrealness of my situation increases with the additional voices and chatter in the background. That somehow enhances my arousal too, and before I know it I hear your voice, "Five." Already?! Oh, I speed up my stroking, panicked as I'm not ready to edge yet. "two, one..." "Edge, Mistress. Edge," I gasp, just barely reaching the edge in time.

Though it was a short edge, my balls felt like they would explode out of my head! That quick ramp up had the unexpected effect of making everything more difficult to stop! Oh, I had to really bear down and squeeze VERY hard to hold it all in. Then finally, as I exhaled a deep breath, I looked up at the clock. It already said 4:40. Only ten seconds until I have to start again.

The lights in the theater began to dim as I read the clock count down three, two, one.

Stroking again. Slowly. Lightly. I had not completely fallen away from the edge, so I was

very close like before. I tried to look around the theater and listen to the stage dialogue to distract my arousal just the slightest bit. My breathing was very shallow now as I tried to hold back the edge. Realizing that nothing short of the fire alarm would have a chance of distracting my arousal, I looked back at the clock as it wound down. As the time neared, I only slightly sped up my strokes, keeping them feather light. Five, four, three, two, one, "Edge," I whispered so quietly that I'm not even sure I heard myself say it.

Holding my breath, I squeezed every muscle in my abdomen trying to hold in my cum. I noticed you begin to crouch down next to the waitress who was still sitting in your chair holding the clock. Finally, I exhaled and was able to relax a bit. I could tell that my muscles were nearing their fatigue point. I was getting quite tired, and I'm sure I looked it. I slumped in my chair just a bit as I looked down and saw you on your knees just a foot away from me. You smiled up at me with glowing eyes as you silently mouthed the words, "One more." I nodded my head and looked at the clock.

Moving my hand toward my cock I watched and counted, mouthing the numbers silently, "three, two," when I felt something different. I looked down and saw your hand pushing mine away and start stroking me. My mouth must have just missed your arm as it hit the floor. OH WHAT AN INTENSE, DELICIOUS FEELING your hand is creating. I was approaching the edge faster than any others yet tonight!

I watched you as you watched my cock in the dark theater, stroking me to the edge for what seemed like the hundredth time of the evening. I looked up at the waitress, and she was smiling from ear to ear watching your hand stroke up and down my cock. It looked as if her breathing was in unison with your stroking. At first it was deep and slow. Then it gradually sped up to short, quick, ragged breaths. Soon it looked like she was panting, just like me. I looked down at at the clock, 1:50. Almost a minute to go, and I was...... Oh, oh....

I gasped as softly as I could, "Edge, mistress. Edge." But you didn't stop stroking. I sucked in a deep breaths, I just continued silently mouthing, "Edge. Edge. Edge. Edge. Edge." I looked up at the ceiling mouthing the word over and over again, sucking in just a little more air each time. "Edge. Edge. Edge." I don't know how long I held that edge when, suddenly I realized something had changed. Something was different. What the? I continued mouthing silently, but now it was "COLD. COLD. COLD." Snapping my head down, I saw a large bag of ice covering my crotch and four hands holding it in place. I tried to scoot away, but you moved a hand to grab my chair.

Before I knew what had happened, I was no longer on the edge. I was no longer hard. I was no longer aroused. My balls felt swollen the size of tennis balls. My sweating had stopped, and my remaining energy had drained from me. I was totally spent. I could hardly move a muscle. I slouched in my chair severely, and my eyes fell shut. Finally, I heard the bag of ice shift. The noise rousing me, I opened my eyes and looked down through the dark to see my package was now shriveled up as small as I can remember ever seeing it. My whole groin was red and numb from the cold ice. I could feel the ache from my balls all the way up into my stomach,

like I'd been kicked there 100 times. Then I hear a faint whisper in my ear. "Crawl over to her," and my chin was lifted and turned to my left. I saw the waitress standing near the door to the theater box with my pants in her hands. I slumped to the floor and slowly crawled over to her. You then helped me stand up, and the two of you slid my pants back on. You handed me my drink, and I took a BIG gulp from it.

Feeling a bit refreshed, I reached down and started to zip up and put myself together. You slid my shoes near my feet, and I stepped into them. No laces are pretty handy at the strangest times.

Finally dressed, the waitress opened the door to the box. You grabbed my hand and walked into the corridor dragging me behind you, the waitress shortly behind me. You look back and smile at me. I smile back, and then like a relay race I look back and smile at the waitress. She smiles back, and I notice she's carrying two empty glasses.

About that time, rational thought has started to return as I look down. I'm carrying the remainder of my drink. The waitress has your empty glass. I think for a second to replay the past couple of hours as best I can, and it escapes me. We approach the bar near the entrance to the theater. I take the final swig from my drink and set it on the bar. I look back to the waitress who is now back in work mode putting our dishes in the sink. She waves and bids us a good evening, and we wave back as you don't stop walking through the lobby, me following along behind hand in hand. Finally, as we are outside approaching the car I ask, "Where did that third glass come from?" You keep walking in silence until we reach the car. You then turn and look me in the eyes. Smiling, you grind your hips into me, grab my ass and pull me close. Suddenly, I feel something in between us, a lump or something down there. You keep looking into my eyes, like you're waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Then suddenly I realize you're grinding into me, and I'm starting to get hard but cant!!! I pull away and look down, and you start giggling. I look back up to ask you what's going on, but then I see it. You've donned a necklace. And there's a key hanging from it. Panic hits me, and I look up into your eyes. I don't even have to say it. You slightly nod your head up and down. "Really? You locked me up? In there? In front of HER? In that theater?"

You just keep nodding your head and chuckle at me. Your chuckle turns into outright laughter for a moment. Then, finally, you catch your breath and say, "I told you. Pay attention to this play. It's my favorite of all time. Oh, and by the way. Thanks for getting us tickets in the box. It's the best view in the house." With that, you wrap your arm around my neck and pull me in for a deep, passionate kiss.

(THE END)