I had seen him in the neighborhood several times, usually at the coffee shops. He was always alone—reading--or writing inexplicable symbols in a complex tableaux that appeared to be musical interpretation.
I was inexplicably drawn to him.
He was tall, and fair. He walked about with a scowl, rarely speaking to anyone. The only time a smile graced his features was when a woman passed by as he sat listening to whatever played on his earphones. He stared openly, lasciviously, at these women, licking his lips while he contemplated their bodies. I could see the color of his eyes at such times. Icy. Cold. Blue.
His hands were beautiful, with long, delicate fingers that tapered to elegant, sensitive fingertips. They were nervous things, always tapping out a rhythm no one else could hear.
His hair was a thing of poems and love stories, fine and curled, golden and uncontrollable.
I wanted to know his cock.
He always paused on his late morning walks at the local film house, and I took to following him. On his way back from a daily coffee, he finally went in to watch the latest movie. I saw a chance, and bought my ticket.
The theatre was nearly empty, only a few patrons sat dispersed in the front rows. In the dim light, I couldn't make him out. I walked to the right behind the rows of seats as the house lights dimmed, and leaned into the heavy brocade drapes that lined the wall. The movie began with a booming soundtrack, violent action, and angry dialogue. My eyes had not yet adjusted when I felt him quickly walk up to me, clamping a hand over my mouth, an arm around my waist, pinioning my arms to my sides. He pulled me back against him into the drapery. He bowed his head and breathed deeply, his mouth by my ear.
"Why are you following me?" he rasped.
Instinctively, I struggled against him, but he clasped me tighter and shook me until I stopped moving. We stood together in the dark, panting, quiet.
I was frightened, but also intensely turned on. Slowly I leaned my head back and arched my back, rubbing my ass against the front of him.
"What the . . . "
His grip tightened again, and he sucked in a quick breath as his cock firmly seated itself between my ass cheeks.
I moaned as I felt him harden, and ground myself back against him.
"You. Little. Whore." he whispered.
For a moment he didn't move, then I felt his arm press my hips back into him.
"Are you looking for some cock, little whore?" he said as he began to rub his cock up and down the groove of my crack.
"Mmmmmm . . . " I purred as his hand moved up to find my hard nipples. He groaned as he realized I wasn't wearing a bra, and started milking my fat, engorged tits through the thin silk of my dress.
"You want to get fucked, little whore, hmm? You want my cock?"
I nodded my head, and he released his grip on my face, mashing my tits with both hands now as he licked and sucked my neck. I reached back for his cock with both hands, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and bit down hard.
