As we walk into the dim, sparsely populated movie theater, you ask me where I’d like to sit to watch the feature. Although I normally chose a more central location, I respond by telling you I’d like to sit toward the back, and walk with you to one of the back rows, slipping down the line until I find a nice, and rather dark spot about halfway down the back row. I sit to your left, and we make ourselves comfortable as the lights dim and the blaring sound of music is heard as the previews of upcoming attractions begin to flash on the big screen. A few stragglers wander in, arms loaded with popcorn and drinks, and to my relief, seat themselves in the empty seats closer to the front of the theater. As the movie begins, you lean toward me, pressing one soft kiss just beside my mouth, and we share a smile.
You take my hand in yours, fingers laced in mine, and rest them against your thigh, just above your knee. I really enjoy the feel of your hand holding mine, sharing that little bit of closeness as we watch the movie. My thumb gently brushes back and forth against the skin between your thumb and forefinger, a soft caress.
As the movie evolves, a love scene appears on the screen. Two lovers begin to share deep kisses that grow more heated, and soon, both are naked, and caught up in the scenes of hot and erotic sex. As we watch, you move slightly in your seat, seeking a more comfortable position, and as you do, you move our clasped hands farther up your leg, until the back of my hand is actually lightly brushing your crotch, a seeming innocent action, but bringing my senses to full alert. My mind is no longer on the couple mating on the screen, but on the warmth now radiating against my hand. I flex my fingers against yours very slightly, and feel my hand brushing more firmly against you. You don’t readjust our clasped hands, so I think you are not as aware of the intimate touch like I am, and so I move my hand once more, taking secret pleasure in the feel of you against my knuckles.
In response, your hand holding mine moves, from your thigh, and I, thinking I’ve offended you, begin to pull my hand back, but you capture it once more, and very deliberately return it to your thigh, but this time, placing it directly over the warm and firming bulge there. My hand is pressed directly to your crotch, palm open, and I am cupping you in my hands. My fingers flex, gently squeezing. Your eyes are on the screen, but I can tell by the very slight change in your breathing that you are responding to my touch. I allow my hand to slowly move on you, feeling the swell of your ball sac, and trailing a fingertip along the ridge made by your hardening cock. One finger slides up the shaft from the balls to the head, then moves back down, outlining you. Very soft touches at first, but then trailing along your length more firmly, to circle the head through the material there. My fingers fumble in the dark to find your snap, feeling, not looking, and you assist me by moving to unsnap your jeans for me. My fingertips trail under the open button, then grasp the zipper and very slowly inch it downward, taking care to make it’s descent soundless in the darkness. You adjust yourself once more in the seat, moving your hips slightly forward, allowing me better access, and my hand moves into your open fly, first trailing my fingers along your shaft through your shorts, then finally inching the band downward a fraction, revealing the top two inches of your cock to my seeking fingers.
