As her soft cheeks massaged him through their clothes she felt the change in his body. She felt him growing, growing against her. They both adjusted their movements to optimally stimulate his growing erection. She shifted one way while he shifted the other way almost imperceptibly to the eye, but in their bodies electricity was pulsing, amping up, flashing flashes and lighting lights, opening conduits, sending and receiving. How quickly this had happened! With someone she had just met! Some magic had infiltrated her natural sense of self containment and now hijacked all of her senses.
She was getting wet as his size and pressure increased, moving between her cheeks. She felt that sliding sensation, felt her lips plump and the melting sensation between them. The music, the stage lights, the actors all filled the theatre with their wonderful energies, but now for her all of that was just a dim distant hubbub, and they were alone in the crowd, and no one could see their subtle but oh-so-powerful movements. She was hot for him and that was all she cared about.
Things were happening fast. He was creative and coming up with solutions. The next thing she knew, she felt his skin touching hers. His freed up cock made its way between her legs. He was guiding it up under her skirt with one hand, while the other hand took a quick thrilling tour between her legs until his fingers found the little strip of silky thong elastic and hooked it over his thumb to pull it out and away. That action, that feeling, as the elastic rubbed against her for less than a second, radiated a powerful wave of sexual tension. It was hard to stay still. She wanted to dance on that thumb. She wanted those fingers to play that string across her wildly. She wanted those fingers to take a turn and go straight up into her.
Even better now, right on cue, his cock was coming in. She parted her legs just a bit to make room for him. No one would guess what he was doing; no one would guess the real purpose of her small body adjustments, helping his head push her apart and then enter as she leaned on the wall watching the show with her chin oh so casually resting in her hands. His only movements would appear to be movements that a person might make who is standing for two hours and trying to stay comfortable. But their unseen sensations were wildly surging as he slowly entered her warm wetness, little by little, with short slow thrusts deeper and deeper, and then all the way in he continued his short firm pressing thrusts hard against her. She tightened and released all around his stroking erection, tightened and released, exciting him as effectively as a hand or lips or tongue, gripping and loosening again and again.
She subtly worked her hips to slow him now and to shorten his penetrations even more, milking him one slow insistent squeeze at a time, so slowly, not letting him come yet but just bringing him closer and closer, halfway there and then half of that, and half again, milking, pulling with slow short caresses, gently but with such firm insistence, slowing but never stopping, holding him in this mesmerizing limbo. He was overwhelmed with a frantic need to finish, but still he surrendered to her artistry as his climax approached in tantalizing slow motion, quietly building. It would have been impossible for him to say exactly when his orgasm began. Her unhurried wet, tight massage held him in this joyous torment, closer... closer... and now his whole being felt waves of surging release, one after another, as her slow pink grip pumped his his cum into her, pumping, pumping, and she was coming too as the show rolled on in the crowded theatre, standing room. But not only.
