This teasing little story was previously submitted under the "Romance" category, but it should have been submitted under Erotic Couplings. I reworked it slightly and hope you agree. If you're used to stories in which two people start fucking in the first paragraph, don't waste your time here.
------------------------
It's funny how things happen. One thing sparks another, which sparks another, which sparks another, and then you have success or failure; love or war.
This time the outcome was success. It all began with a classical guitar concert. Something went wrong with the air conditioning at the original venue, so it was switched from a concert hall to a local theater stage, a new theater, at that. It featured seats that reclined and pull-down arm rests with receptacles for sodas. If you didn't want the arm rest, it just lifted and folded back between the seats.
On the night of the concert I didn't want the armrest between us. Who would? You looked wonderful and smelled great. Shortish black skirt, ivory silk top and pearls. Very nice. I was happy to be with you. I didn't even mind when you dashed off two minutes before curtain time to use the ladies room. Poor thing.
You returned just seconds after the lights went down, but that was another one of those critical "somethings". I put my hand out just before you sat down--a junior high bit of nonsense-- and found it trapped beneath you, palm up. You shot me a quizzical look, and I smiled. But I didn't move my hand. Holding my coat as I was, and in the darkened theater, no one could see.
It was a spontaneous gesture, a prank born out of my own playfulness, but it took me only a second or two to realize that there may be an opportunity for something more; an opportunity to repay you for taking my penis in your mouth and teasing me for the better part of a half-hour last night. Still, how much could I do with my hand crushed beneath your body? I wiggled it slightly, with little effect. Your weight and the fabric of the skirt conspired against me. I started to withdraw my hand, but then stopped. Was it really that hopeless? Was there nothing I could do?
There was nothing. You had all your weight on my hand as if to fend me off. I could barely move a finger, but wiggle that finger I did.
You had other ideas, though. I could feel a quick downward pressure every few seconds. And that wordless gesture was unmistakable. You were telling me to knock it off. Quit fooling around! I understood but I wouldn't give in. Not a chance.
I continued trying to tease you, but with little effect. I know you felt my fingers, but that skirt was in the way. I couldn't get past it...or could I? I began pulling at it, millimeter by millimeter, inching it back by the pressure of my hand. My fingers cramped with the effort, so I stopped every few minutes to rest, then started again. I saw your head turn and your glittering eyes looking my way, but I wouldn't meet them with my own gaze. I wasn't going to chicken out.
