My name is David Shaw. I live in a small, rural town; the kind that gets up with the sun and revolves around planting and harvest. Farm equipment generally clogs the roadways during the summer and snowdrifts clog roadways during the winter. The majority of residents in my town have long histories of ancestors settling and working the land. The newer residents have floated here to get away from the rat-race of big city life.
I don't necessarily choose to live here, but I'm a 2nd year university student and Mom & Dad's house is cheaper than a shoebox apartment just off campus. The drive isn't too bad, although I do say a prayer every time I get into my ancient car.
I have been working at the town's movie theatre since the age of 12. My job, when I was first employed, was to push around a broom, handle a dust rag, empty garbage bins and to re-stock theatre production pamphlets.
Dr. Walter Sparrow, the theatre owner, had been very stern back then. He expected perfection- not a speck of dust was to be seen anywhere! I had been extremely afraid of him, even to the point where I asked my mom to quit working at the theatre. But I stayed and was diligent in my work and the Doc mellowed. He shared with me his love for the movies- especially the classics-, so much so that when I entered university, I made my major Film Studies. I am in year two of a four-year degree.
Years of diligent service had also produced other perks at the theatre. I now get the keys when I work the late shift. I also graduated from gopher to Film Associate and have been able to pick my own favourite movies to showcase. Most importantly, I have access to as much warm, buttery, popcorn as I can get my hands on.
Doc Wally had given me the keys to the theatre when I arrived earlier this evening. He had said that there wasn't much foot traffic, meaning no one had come by yet to buy tickets for the late show. He had decided to close down one of the two screens in the theatre for the evening- why waste electricity? I, therefore, expect a slow night and have picked one of my favourite classic movies to present for the late-night screening. I swear, I've seen this one a hundred times, but you can't argue with quality. I'm really going to enjoy this show!
I'm setting up the movie reel for the allotted show time when I hear noises in the theatre below. One advantage of being a Film Associate is the view I have from the Preparation Room above the Theatre 1 seats. Being here allows me to have access to most of the movies we can showcase; it also allows me to be present in the event of a problem, AND I get the best seat in the house- a clear, unobstructed view of every seat in the theatre and of my favourite thing in the whole world: A great movie on a gigantic movie screen. As such, from my vantage point I can see a middle-aged couple, folks that I do not recognize, making their way towards the back of the theatre to the third last row of seating.
It surprises me that they have come in tonight. I had expected things to be super-quiet. Hopefully they like the film I have chosen for tonight. Hopefully they enjoy the show.
The movie is ready to go and the picture starts rolling. As the opening credits light up the screen, Buddy leans over and whispers to his lady friend. This initial movement catches my attention and my hand stills in the large, greasy, popcorn bag on my lap. He makes a show of looking around as if to make sure the coast is clear and again whispers in her ear. She, too, sits up and takes a look around. She even goes so far as to look up at the Film Associate window, but I duck out of the way just in time, spilling some precious kernels with the sudden movement. She pauses for a moment and nods eagerly at her friend. She shrugs out of her jacket, pushing her large breasts forward with the action. He watches her breasts as she completes this task. She looks at him and he slowly reaches across her chest to cup her breast. She looks down at his hand, the one that is now massaging her. His hand isn't quite big enough to get all of it in his palm, but neither of them seem to mind. I am dumbfounded at what I'm seeing. My popcorn falls to the floor forgotten as I rise out of my director's chair and press my face against the window. Should I let them know I'm here? My 20-year old cock says, "No", because he has already sprung to life. I rub the front of my jeans and the ache increases. It feels so good to touch myself. If I masturbate, no one will ever know. My attention goes back to the couple.
She is wearing a peasant top that is tied at the neck. He pulls the tie and allows her top to fall open. Her breasts are large, round and encased in a lacy, light-pink push-up bra. His hand goes back to her breast and he pulls one tit free of the bra. The nipple is large and he uses his thumb to play with it. She tilts her head back, enjoying the assault. She rests her hand in his lap and starts a light massage of his cock through his jeans. He moves his hand to her other breast, repeating the action of the first: Exposing it, freeing it from the confines of her lingerie and using his thumb and now index finger to play with the swollen nipple. He pinches and twists the nipple and her back arches. She's breathing heavily and from my vantage point I can see both breasts heaving as she enjoys his breast play. Her hand, all the while, has been increasing pressure in his lap; the bulge in his pants has become thicker and more apparent. As has mine. I open my zipper to release some of the pressure and let my hard cock rest in my greasy hands. I stroke it lightly and continue watching.
She leans over and kisses him. Their mouths open to each other, tongues mating and tasting. He takes his hand from her breast and moves it down her leg and slips it under her skirt. She moves her right leg over the seat in front of her and scoots down lower in her seat to give him better access. She takes the edge of her skirt and pulls it up to watch his hand play with her soft, light-skinned pussy. It is naked, but hairy, and his palm starts rubbing and massaging her. I have never seen a pussy in real life before. My stroking quickens at the thought of getting a more up-close view.
