There is nothing quite like the hush of a darkened theatre. Every movement causes a rustling noise, and every whisper is magnified. A cough echoes forever. Therefore a moan must be bitten back at all costs.
Her head rested on his shoulder in the darkness. Caught up completely in the storyline, her awareness of him came and went as he fidgeted slightly in his seat, but was suddenly wholly fixed on him when his hand cupped her breast. His lips brushed her face as he murmured her name.
She stayed very still, eyes fixed on the screen but attention dominated by him. She waited silently in the dark for the words she knew would come. She hadn't long to wait before the ghost of his voice reached her ears. "I dare you, baby."
She drew in a shallow breath and waited. His hand squeezed her breast, and his other hand crossed over his body to take her hand, gently placing it over his zipper and the already-hard bulge beneath. Did she hear his whispered plea for her mouth on his cock? Or was she now sliding from her seat of her own accord? She wasn't sure and didn't care. The feel of him under her fingers made her mouth water and her pussy ache.
She knelt on the floor between his legs, her hands silently lowering the zipper of his pants and slipping inside. His fingers gently stroked her cheeks, his eyes never leaving her face. Her fingers closed firmly around his hardness, and as she instinctively licked her lips he clenched his teeth against the groan rising in his throat.