You were running late -- a last minute phone call dragged on for over an hour. By the time you arrived at the theater, the movie was more than half way through. Blinking against the blare of the bright screen against the darkness, you peer into the crowd looking for my face. Pulling out your cell phone, you send me a text message -- "WHERE ARE YOU?"
"I'M HERE. YOU LOOK CUTE. I LOVE THE GLASSES."
You smile glancing around. Then try again -- "THANKS. WHERE ARE YOU??"
"LET'S PLAY A GAME, MISS A."
You're heart thumps heavily and you feel a warm flush. You shift your soda into the crook of your arm so you can reply more easily. You bite your lip nervously, squinting into the theater.
"WHAT KIND OF GAME, MR. J?"
I grin wickedly. As soon as you replied with your nickname for me, I knew you would interested.
"GO TO THE 5TH ROW; CHOOSE A SEAT IN THE MIDDLE."
You make your way there, excusing your way past a young couple. As you turn to slide past you notice the lingering glance of the man watching your curves. A moment later you hear the sound of his girlfriend smacking him hard on the arm, bringing him back to reality.
You glance around the theater while the movie carries on. It's half filled, and the seat you've chosen offers you a good vantage point. There are three empty seats to either side of you.
"WHY DON'T YOU COME JOIN ME?" you ask.
"I WILL. FIRST I WANT YOU TO PUT ON A LITTLE SHOW."
Your eyes close for a moment as you slowly blink. A shiver passes through your loins as your thighs close together tightly and you feel the muscles in your pussy contract. A "show" can only mean one thing...
"WHY DON'T YOU GET COMFORTABLE?"
You look around, nervously. The current scene is a night battle at sea, lit up randomly by flashes of fire and explosions accompanied by a roaring soundtrack. We picked a rerun of a pirate movie, of all things. It was entertaining the first time so it would probably still be fun the second.
"TAKE YOUR PANTIES OFF. PUT THEM IN THE CUPHOLDER SO I CAN SEE THEM."
You squirm, your pussy growing wetter. The screen flashes fiery gold and a moment later the pounding of tropical music begins as the scene changes to a deserted island and then back to the night battle. Realizing this may your window of opportunity; you plant your heels firmly on the floor and lean your hips upward. Quickly reaching under your skirt, your fingers grab the corners of the flimsy lace of your panties and yank them down to your knees.
Unfortunately, your attempt is ill timed twice over. Before you can finish, the scene cuts to the bright sunny island In that flash you are caught with your panties around your knees, your skirt hiked into your lap. As the light fades you glance nervously about -- safe on the right, but on the left... The same young man you caught admiring your curves is now staring openly, mouth slightly agape.
You hesitate for a moment, oddly transfixed with your panties around your knees before you regain your resolution and slide them down your calves and over your sexy shoes -- your "Come fuck me shoes" as I jokingly call them. You enjoy wearing them for me, knowing how much I appreciate the care you put into each part of your ensemble.
Watching your preparation for an afternoon lunch date is like being in the kitchen of a master chef. Each ingredient is selected, prepared carefully... the shoes, the skirt, the belt...each designed to bring out a distinct and separate delicious flavor -- the curve of your waist, the shape of your calves, the graceful slope where your back meets your hip...Your hair, glasses and jewelry frame the plate...trimming out the dish. Like a master chef -- you've create a unique recipe for delicious feminity. It might be imitated, but never duplicated. You are a dish created, plated and served for one... and I'm happy to be the diner at your restaurant.
You place your silky panties in the cup holder as expected -- though I don't see them simply as your underwear - rather they are like the dark chocolate that covers a strawberry -- worth nibbling off before I bit into the soft, pink flesh underneath.
As you push them into the plastic ring, you note they're already wet. You can't help but blush, though no one can see it in the half light of the dim chamber. You can feel your juices slickening the skin where your thighs touch the edge of your mound.
"GOOD GIRL, MISS A. ARE YOU WET YET?"
You chuckle and shake your head warily. "YOU KNOW I AM."
"TSK, TSK. I CAN'T HAVE YOU OVERHEATING TOO SOON. WHAT DID YOU BUY AT THE STAND?"
You weren't sure what I would like so you chose a variety. You reply indicating your choice of DOTS, Twizzlers, and a soda.
"COOL THAT HOT BOX OF YOURS DOWN A LITTLE."
Unsure, you look about vainly hoping to find me in the darkness. You see the man in your row is only pretending to watch the movie. Instead he keeps looking at your panties and your lap. Glancing down you realize why -- in your haste to follow my instructions, you forgot to pull your skirt back down. It's been bunched at your waist. Though he'd have a hard time seeing your box, the way the material is folded leaves little to the imagination -- he knows that your pussy is exposed for anyone to see... if only they had the right angle. You begin to reach down to pull down the hem, but then stop. Feeling particularly naughty, you leave it where it is, instead raising your eyebrows and giving him a slight wink.
Seeing this makes my cock throb. It's already straining against the material of my suit -- the hard shaft tenting the material, shorts damp with pre-cum. It's the decision not to cover up that is the sexiest part.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COOL OFF? MY PUSSY IS LIKE A DAMN VOLCANO."
You laugh out loud at the analogy, eliciting irritated glances from patrons lower than you. A moment later you hear my laugh softly somewhere behind you as I read your message.
"USE AN ICE CUBE."
"Oh fuck..." you curse softly under your breath, the thought makes you clench your cheeks and squeeze your thighs together, which only heightens the tease as your sensitive wet cunt flesh rubs together.
You quietly pop the top of your drink container and fish out an ice cube. As the pirates on screen begin to banter, you rest the cube a few inches above your clit. It immediately begins to melt and you feel a droplet of cool water run down across your skin, weaving its way through the short hair before dribbling across the hood of your clit. You close your eyes for a moment and bite your lip as you run the rapidly melting cube across your clit, making you squirm. Then you trace the delicate crenellations of your lips, the soft folds, the nooks of that delicious valley before settling in to a pattern of running it softly and slowly up and down your creamy slit.
After a few minutes, the ice cube is nothing more than a nub and shortly after it is completely gone. However, that hasn't made you any cooler. In fact you feel all the more warm inside, the inside of your pussy feeling overfull with wetness, causing you to imagine that if I were to insert my cock you would practically gush around my shaft.
"ARE YOU ENJOYING THE SHOW, MR. J?" you ask, typing with slippery fingers.
"YOU'RE MAKING MY COCK VERY HARD, MISS A."
"SO WHY DON'T YOU COME SIT BY ME SO I CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT?" you ask, hoping that I'll take you up on the offer. You know it's a remote possibility -- the game isn't done yet.
"HMM. TEMPTING. BUT BEFORE I COME OVER, I WANT YOU TO GET THE CANDY READY FOR ME."
You smile and unwrap the Twizzlers, taking a sip of the sweet soda as well. You're sweating slightly, skin flushed. The temperature seems to have risen twenty degrees in the room, however you're the only one feeling it. You open the box of DOTS and pop one into your mouth, savoring the sweet gelatin of false fruit.
"ALL SET. COME DOWN HERE NOW!!" you send, emphasizing the last word.
"I SAID TO GET THE CANDY READY... I DIDN'T MEAN TO EAT IT."
