Show Me 11

"... and a large buttered popcorn." He finishes ordering, turns to me and asks, "Anything else?"

"Chocolate," I answer, pointing to the box of nonpareils in the glass case.

"Little bedazzled nipples," I whisper in his ear.

His snort of laughter startles the clerk who smiles nervously as she completes our order.

Gathering up our snacks, we head to the corridor behind the concession stand, walk down the dark hall and find the door.

"Here okay?" he asks, pausing at a short row of seats tucked away in the very back of the room. Judging from their boisterous behavior, the handful of people scattered right in front of the screen are college students already well on their way to celebrating the weekend. It's isolated where we're sitting, no one within a dozen rows.

The room darkens and the familiar fanfare of the previews begins. We nibble on our snacks and talk quietly, our voices unheard in the din of rock music and sound effects blasting from the speakers mounted on the wall. Our talk turns to movies and first dates.

He smiles at me in the darkness and whispers, "Just about now is when I'd make my move". He yawns exaggeratedly and stretches, his arm moving around and resting on my shoulder.

"Right about now is when I'd begin wondering if he was going to kiss me," I murmur.

"I'd certainly want to," he replies, pulling me closer to him as the theatre dims and the movie credits roll across the screen.

"Oh, yes," I say as our lips meet.

We kiss. Lightly, gently at first, our lips barely grazing each other, then longer and deeper. Kisses as sweet, as enticing as dark chocolate, tongues sliding into open mouths, first tentatively, just tasting, then more insistently. Dancing and tangling. We kiss until the characters on the screen are just a blur. The movie theatre fades away and the whole world is just the two of us, mouths together, bodies yearning for more and more. We kiss until we are out of breath and break apart gasping, panting, sucking in air.

He drags kisses across my cheek and down the side of my neck. Gentle nibbling little kisses, changing into licking, his mouth on me sucking lightly the sensation of his lips right there sends shivers and desire deep into my core.

I whisper into the darkness, "Suck harder. I want you to leave your mark on me."

I lean my head back offering my neck to him. His mouth sucks and I moan, feeling his fingers touching my lips, reminding me to be quiet. I suck his fingers into my mouth, tasting salt and butter but wanting to taste him.

There's a noise behind us and we pull apart. The door to the lobby bangs open and a wedge of light illuminates the seats next to us but we remain cocooned in our darkness. He pulls me tight, playing with my hair and caressing the skin of my neck, his hand gliding down until he brushes the top swell of my breast. I can feel the heat of his touch as he edges first one finger then another into the neckline of my top.

"I wish I was touching your bare breast," he whispers in my ear.

"Oh, so do I," I whisper back and I guide his hands to the buttons.

"You do it. I want to watch you undress for me." He gently turns me in the seat so I'm shielded from view and so he can watch me.

I feel the heat of my blush, and my arousal, as I unbutton the first button. His fingers follow mine, stroking each little portion of skin as it's uncovered. He pushes the edges of my sweater aside and pins them under my arms leaving me clad only in a very sheer lacy camisole. I know he is looking at me.

My nipples harden. His fingers caress my bare skin and I feel them harden even more, dark pink as they brush against the lace. An inch or so more and he touches my nipples through the camisole. Almost imperceptibly at first, his fingers rub them in light circles.

Oh, it feels so good, but I want more. I want him to touch my breasts, to play with my nipples, to take them into his mouth. I take the edges of the camisole and pull lightly. The laces stretches and my bare breasts are free to be touched. His hands cup my exposed breasts, thumbs playing across oh so hard nipples. I arch my back under his touch. He strokes and caresses and tugs and tweaks until I feel myself melting, cream pooling deep in my core.

"Touch yourself." I hear him murmur as his mouth sucks in my earlobe. My hands move from my sides and towards my breasts. His quiet voice stops me.

"Not there. Your pussy. I want to fondle your breasts while you stroke yourself. I want to feel your nipples form into buds as you finger your clit. I want to suck the juices off your fingers. No. Off your nipples after you rub them on your nipples. "

I'm so turned on by his words. His hands. His mouth. With trembling fingers I gather up my skirt and reach my hand under the hem.

"Your panties," he says softly, "what color are they?"

"Who says I'm wearing panties?" I whisper back.

His hands stop for a moment on my breasts.

"No panties? Yum."

"Well, I am wearing them right now. They're violet, by the way, but in one more minute they're going to be off." I lift off from the seat and tug my panties off. I brush his mouth and then his fingers with them and drop them into his lap.

"Now they're all yours." My fingers move idly up and down his leg, edging ever closer to his fly and the erection I see pressing against it. Reaching the junction of his thighs, I stroke lightly, caressing him through the faded denim. He shifts in the seat, legs opening as my fingers brush his cock.

My other hand brushes my curls under my skirt, a finger sliding deeper and deeper and finding the little pearl hidden there. It's so swollen and so sensitive. Those kisses and that touch, his hands on my breasts have me so turned on. I look up into his face. His eyes slide from my face to his hand on my breast, to my hand beneath my skirt as I pleasure myself and then back into my eyes.

"Show me, lover. Show me what you when you think of me when you're all alone. Show me."

His hand stills on my breast and then is gone. I shiver in the air conditioning, cold without the warmth of his hand. I hear a faint rustle of clothing and a quiet pop, pop, pop as the buttons of his jeans are undone one by one.

I can see his cock silhouetted in the flickering light of the movie and watch in rapt attention as he strokes himself. My fingers pull my skirt up to the very top of my thighs until I am as exposed to his gaze as he is to mine. I slide into the warm wet hidden by my now damp curls. I gather the dewy juices and slide them over my clit. I rub that little pearl in slow languid circles. My eyes are fixed on him, watching as he pumps his cock.

I pull out my fingers dripping with cream. I reach over and caress the head of his cock. Covering my hand with his, he strokes his cock. His hard cock, warm velvety soft cock under my fist, his hand surrounding mine.

I hear his voice, barely a whisper in my ear as he sucks my neck.

"Spread your legs. Open yourself to me."

I comply, easing around until I'm almost facing him. His hand leaves mine and strokes my inner thighs. Feathery light touches with those work-hardened hands, edging ever-closer to my pussy. Tilting my hips to meet those fingers, I yearn for his touch. He continues to draw exquisite figures, barely perceptible, but I know precisely where those hands are. One hand caresses my breasts, first one then another, fingers rubbing circles around the aureola, thumbs rubbing back and forth across my nipples. Oh, and that other hand! Fingertips brushing the very edge of my curls around my labia and then back off. Again and again staying just a little longer each time, getting just a little closer to my clit. My whole body tingles and throbs. I ache for his touch, his fingers deep inside me, pleasuring my clit. Pleasuring me.

I follow the rhythm he sets as I pump his cock. With trembling fingers I guide it over the head. I trace the veins with one finger, twirling it around and around and dip a finger into his jeans to caress his balls.

"Harder." My fist tightens around his cock and I speed up the rhythm.

"More," I reply and he complies. His hand cups my pussy. His fingers slide inside, first one, then another and then finally one more. His thumb brushes across my clit as he fucks me with his hand.

I tilt up my hips and rise to meet his hand. I rock back and forth, wishing those fingers were his cock buried deep inside me. "You're so wet, so hot," he says. "I bet you taste so sweet right now."

"Taste me," I whisper and gently tug his hand away from my pussy. I want him to keep fucking my pussy, but the thought of the taste of me on his lips sends little shivers through me.

I watch as he rubs his fingers over his mouth and then licks his lips. He leans over and kisses me, my taste mingled with the taste of buttered popcorn.

"Yes, so very sweet and so very hot," he says as he returns his hand to my pussy. His thumbs flick across taut pink buds, my nipples with one hand, my clit with the other. My free hand slides under his shirt and I brush my fingers across his nipples. They harden instantly under my touch as my hand around his cock moves faster now.

"I'm gonna cum," we say, almost in unison. My hand brushes against my panties still on his lap and I sheathe his cock, my hand still stroking it, with them. One last flurry of movement, fingers sliding into wet silk, fingers fisted around velvet-wrapped steel and I feel the first tingles of my orgasm. He groans and he pumps his cock into my hand.

"Now," he groans and I can feel the heat of his cum spurting over my hand. The scent of his cum fills my senses and now it's my turn to taste him. Leaving my panties draped over his cock, I raise my fingers to my lips. My tongue darts out and I lick a drop of his cum from their tips.

"That's so hot," he says. "Cum for me, baby. Cum for me."

"Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," I whimper as my body shudders and shivers and shakes with my orgasm. His fingers continue to play over my pussy and my clit as wave after wave washes over me. At last the touch of his hand feels more pain than pleasure and I rest my hand on his. He stops and I can feel my pussy pulsating against his palm.

Our bodies are satiated and we are still for a moment as we catch our breath. He cleans up a bit with my panties and tucks them into his pocket with a smile. I smooth my skirt back down over my thighs and re-button my sweater with shaking fingers.

Just in time, too, as the music rises to a crescendo and the credits finish rolling. We both blink in the glare of the house lights. The rest of the audience makes its way up the aisle, laughing and talking and discussing the movie. We gather up our things and follow them, smiling at the usher as he begins sweeping the aisle.

"I hear there's a double feature tomorrow night," I say as he opens the door onto a warm summer night.

"Oh?" he replies as we cross the parking lot.

"Yes, and I have new lingerie," I grin up at him as he unlocks the car.

"In that case, it's a date."

"Yum."

The end.

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