Cinema Visit

Give me some credit for trying… I was eighteen, and back in my home town, and bored. I’d moved to London as soon as I was legally able, and going home to visit my parents was an unpleasant reminder of why I’d left. Not my parents, but the joyless miseries of a small town an hour’s bus ride from Cardiff.

By the Sunday night of that bank holiday weekend I was bored to tears. And faced with Songs of Praise followed by All Creatures Great And Small I was willing to consider even the damp and mouldy surroundings of the local flea pit. And what was the Sunday night double bill? Emannuelle and Emannuelle II. Now I’m not giving much away about my age if I say that at the time all the porn shops in Soho had 50p coin in the slot video booths that offered films a little more spicy than soft focus Sylvia Kristel.

Beggars can’t be choosers though, and off I went, forsaking the pleasures of James Heriott with his hand up a cow’s arse. The fleapit was how I remembered it, right down to the damp and the feeling that the seats had not only seen better days but absorbed some of the consequences too. It was a typical valleys cinema, built on the side of a hill so the seats had a natural rake, the walls brick and the roof corrugated iron (quiet films and heavy rain usually meant asking for your money back because you couldn’t hear…) Even as a teenager I knew enough not to sit in the back row when there were porno movies on; it looked like the Abercwmbyhere branch of Macs R Us.

So I sat about six rows forward; there was no central aisle just long rows of seats about twenty seats wide. Once my senses had adjusted to the environment I could take a good look around. There were a few younger couples down the front, self consciously clustering together to prove they were there to see the films for their artistic merits and a smattering of single men who looked like they didn’t get out enough. (Yes, I got the irony of my thinking that but hey, I was exempt – I lived in London…)

To be honest I thought I’d chosen the coolest place in the cinema. If Sylvia’s charms did the trick I was far enough back to go for a five knuckle shuffle in privacy, but I was also well placed to watch the groups at front and back if the film got boring.

So when someone came into my row I was a little grumpy. They were a staid looking couple; her faux PVC mini coat dated back to 1967 at least, and he looked like a wannnabe car salesman in a sheepskin coat that looked as if the sheep in question had had a hard life. Sat three or four seats away, with the woman nearest me and I downgraded my options for the night to people watching. Ah well….

How wrong was I? Within five minutes of the first film starting it was obvious that they were both having a fumble in the play area. I was trying to watch them from one side while my mind worked overtime and my neck muscles protested at the pretence of sitting as if I was staring straight ahead while straining my eyes over my left shoulder to see what was going on. It took a little while, but when she slumped down in her seat and her skirt slid above her stocking tops I had to revise my opinion. This was the 1970s, when stocking tops were much more of an indicator than they are now that they’re a fashion item. I still couldn’t decide whether they were an adulterous couple with nowhere better to go or just, shock horror, the kind of adventurous couple I’d read about in Fiesta and Penthouse, but the view was absorbing all my attention.

Can you imagine how perplexed and absorbed I was? I wasn’t even sure if they knew that I could see them or if they would object. That part was solved for me when she raised her hips from the seat so that her husband could pull her panties down. While he was doing it she caught me watching, and smiled at me. She knew I was watching. For about ten minutes I was absorbed by nothing more than a side on view of her stockinged thigh and her hip. It didn’t seem as if they were getting anywhere sexually, but every so often she would look across at me to make sure I was watching,

Looking back I suppose we could have sat there, a distance between us, for ever more, if she hadn’t made her mind up. I was initially disappointed when she stood up and went down the far aisle towards the curtain at the bottom of the cinema, to one side of the screen, which concealed the fire exit, the single ladies toilet and the access to the outdoor gents toilet. Suffice to say that when her husband started to move across the row towards me I didn’t know whether to run or hide, but he was polite, and gestured at the seats ‘OK if we sit here?’ I think he took my blush as an answer, and sat down leaving an empty seat between us.

The woman came back from the toilet, and made her way to the empty seat between us. She leant towards me, and whispered ‘I’m Ros, he’s David. Just enjoy…’ Enjoy? I didn’t know what to say. Within seconds her skirt was around her waist, and David’s hand was rubbing at her clit. She was trying to make more room for his fingers, and in the process her right leg ended up looped round mine. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my mouth. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but this was an adventure of a kind I thought only happened to other people. I realised that she had her hand in David’s trousers, feeling for his cock. When she put her hand on my groin I didn’t know whether to gasp or shout for joy. Instead, fumble fingered, I undid the zip on my jeans and pulled my erection free. Never mind that the metal teeth of the zip rubbed against my skin, I wanted her hand on me. The feel of her hand on me, and the cold metal of her rings in contrast to the warmth of her skin, was as much as I could bear. If my jeans had allowed her to move her hand any more than she could I would have spurted then and there.

I don’t know how long we sat there, her husband’s hand between her legs, her hands on our hardons, but once again it was Ros who made the decision.

“When the film finishes go down to the toilets and wait there. We’ll make our way down like we’re going out the back door…” It was the first time I’d ever had to wrestle an erection back into my trousers, and I don’t think I could contort myself the way I did then, convinced that I could conceal what I was doing from the others in the back row.

The lean to gents toilet was the pits. You wouldn’t go anywhere near it today. Just a zinc trough against one wall as a urinal, and a dank smelly WC with a shed door to provide privacy. I stood by the urinal waiting, anxious, nervous, conscious of the stickinesss in my pants. Ros came in first, then David stood against the door, keeping it closed. Ros had an urgency in her voice for the first time; the hint of mocking humour that had been in her voice earlier had gone.

“Don’t hang around. I want it now.”

You had to believe she had done this before, that they had done it before. In a moment she was bent over, David’s erection in her mouth, her skirt pulled above her waist. I took her at her word, pressing forward, pushing myself into her.

She was tighter than I’d expected. I’d been brought up to believe that loose women were so called because they were stretched, used, slack... All the words that men used about women they didn’t approve of.

Ros was tight, so tight, and her muscles closed around me as they let me in. I had to use my hands on her hips to move her on my erection, to generate some friction. She started to urge me on, taking David out of her mouth to swear at me, to order me to fuck her.

I only realised she was having her first orgasm after it had happened. She clamped tight around me. I had to hold on tighter to her, and I could see the red marks my hands were leaving on her thighs, but I didn’t wait for her orgasm to stop, just carried on thrusting. I was shocked to see David come on her face, wanking himself over her as she gasped at me to not stop, to keep going. It was a shock to realise that he wanted to see me watching him; each time he wiped his come over her face with his cock he was looking at me, gauging my reactions.

I kept going for as long as I could, but then I came, hanging onto her hips and ramming myself as deeply into her as I could. The whole thing had probably taken less than five minutes, but when she stood up and kissed me on the mouth she was muttering thank you, thank you like a mantra.

I zipped myself up and made to leave, but as I went past him David pulled at my arm.

“We’ll be in the Crown for a drink about one tomorrow. Meet us there and you’ll get more…”