by Alex B.
You and I are at a movie theater, with the back row all
to ourselves. No more than a minute after the lights
have dimmed, you begin slipping your hand beneath the
container of popcorn on my lap to give me an unexpected
preview of an upcoming release. I flinch in surprise and
slap your hand away, out of propriety. But, after you
make another advance beneath the tub, I find myself
with a powerful involuntary response. My whispered
demands to behave go unheeded. By the time the
feature has begun, you've managed to unzip me and
have worked your fingers into my briefs. When I say
that I’m not afraid to take you over my knee right then
and there, you simply giggle and continue your game of
pinch the pickle. After a few more squeezes, I place the
popcorn aside and pull your wriggling frame across my lap.
For a moment or two, I hold you in place, firmly kneading
your cheeks as prelude to the warming they deserve.
Then, as something loud happens on the screen, I give
the back of your skirt a sound smack. I wait for more noise
and, when the audience breaks into laughter, I slap your
bottom three more times, in quick succession. This goes
on for quite a while, something audible happens in the
movie and you get a swat, the audience reacts and you
get two smacks to your shapely rump. Then, as I raise my
hand to continue, I find myself blinded by the glare of an
usher's flashlight. The young theater employee quickly
clicks off his device. Then, through the darkness, I seem
to make out a sly smile on his face. Instead of shushing us
or asking that we leave, as I’d fully expect, he points to
a balcony overhead.
"You might prefer the seating up there." he offers politely,
then turns and heads back up the aisle.
Embarrassed and disheveled, you push yourself from my
lap and stand. Poking my stiff one back inside, I rise
and zip myself up. Then, taking your wrist, I lead you
out into the lobby and up the stairs. Once inside the
dark, empty balcony, we begin pressing against each
other in a feverish kissing frenzy. In a typically
miraculous performance of dexterity, you manage
to remove your panties over your shoes and tuck
them into your purse without breaking the engagement
of our mouths. Your lips are warm and moist.
I reach down between your legs, hoping to find
similar conditions. Your thighs clamp around my fingers.
Slowly pulling my hand away, I guide you to the rear
aisle and bend you over the back of the nearest seat.
Tossing your skirt up over your back, I raise my hand to
give you another dose of comeuppance. But now, a quiet
scene is playing out on the screen and I forgo any further
spanking for fear of attracting attention. Instead, I begin
working your thighs and buttocks between my strong,
eager hands, occasionally allowing my fingers to gently
probe your most tender regions. Moaning ever so softly,
you reach forward, gripping the armrests and elevate your
exquisite backside, providing a none too subtle invitation.
I swiftly unbuckle my belt, zip down and push my pants to
my ankles. Taking my painfully rigid rod in hand, I playfully
slap your ass with it. You sigh and squeal, then cover your
mouth as not to be heard. I continue teasing you, sliding
the head of my member up and down between your cheeks
until you begin to grunt and wiggle your hips impatiently.
And so, I enter you. Slowly, but with determination, I
ease myself deep into your slick, inviting passage. I move
forward, taking you by the hips as I push my staff in,
up to its hilt. I slowly withdraw, almost completely,
only to glide inward once again. For a moment, I stop
all together, then start again, thrusting with increasing
speed, over and over, on and on, until our act comes
to an intense, if muted, climax.
Afterward, we share a prolonged kiss and a few subdued
laughs before putting our clothes and composures back
in order. We watch the film for a while, but for some
reason, it seems terribly dull. Soon, we decide to go home
and continue making our own entertainment. Leaving the
theater, we smile as we pass our usher, now tending the
refreshment counter. He winks, then looks away discreetly
as we exit, my hand cupping your warm, throbbing bottom.
You and I are at a movie theater, with the back row all
to ourselves. No more than a minute after the lights
have dimmed, you begin slipping your hand beneath the
container of popcorn on my lap to give me an unexpected
preview of an upcoming release. I flinch in surprise and
slap your hand away, out of propriety. But, after you
make another advance beneath the tub, I find myself
with a powerful involuntary response. My whispered
demands to behave go unheeded. By the time the
feature has begun, you've managed to unzip me and
have worked your fingers into my briefs. When I say
that I’m not afraid to take you over my knee right then
and there, you simply giggle and continue your game of
pinch the pickle. After a few more squeezes, I place the
popcorn aside and pull your wriggling frame across my lap.
For a moment or two, I hold you in place, firmly kneading
your cheeks as prelude to the warming they deserve.
Then, as something loud happens on the screen, I give
the back of your skirt a sound smack. I wait for more noise
and, when the audience breaks into laughter, I slap your
bottom three more times, in quick succession. This goes
on for quite a while, something audible happens in the
movie and you get a swat, the audience reacts and you
get two smacks to your shapely rump. Then, as I raise my
hand to continue, I find myself blinded by the glare of an
usher's flashlight. The young theater employee quickly
clicks off his device. Then, through the darkness, I seem
to make out a sly smile on his face. Instead of shushing us
or asking that we leave, as I’d fully expect, he points to
a balcony overhead.
"You might prefer the seating up there." he offers politely,
then turns and heads back up the aisle.
Embarrassed and disheveled, you push yourself from my
lap and stand. Poking my stiff one back inside, I rise
and zip myself up. Then, taking your wrist, I lead you
out into the lobby and up the stairs. Once inside the
dark, empty balcony, we begin pressing against each
other in a feverish kissing frenzy. In a typically
miraculous performance of dexterity, you manage
to remove your panties over your shoes and tuck
them into your purse without breaking the engagement
of our mouths. Your lips are warm and moist.
I reach down between your legs, hoping to find
similar conditions. Your thighs clamp around my fingers.
Slowly pulling my hand away, I guide you to the rear
aisle and bend you over the back of the nearest seat.
Tossing your skirt up over your back, I raise my hand to
give you another dose of comeuppance. But now, a quiet
scene is playing out on the screen and I forgo any further
spanking for fear of attracting attention. Instead, I begin
working your thighs and buttocks between my strong,
eager hands, occasionally allowing my fingers to gently
probe your most tender regions. Moaning ever so softly,
you reach forward, gripping the armrests and elevate your
exquisite backside, providing a none too subtle invitation.
I swiftly unbuckle my belt, zip down and push my pants to
my ankles. Taking my painfully rigid rod in hand, I playfully
slap your ass with it. You sigh and squeal, then cover your
mouth as not to be heard. I continue teasing you, sliding
the head of my member up and down between your cheeks
until you begin to grunt and wiggle your hips impatiently.
And so, I enter you. Slowly, but with determination, I
ease myself deep into your slick, inviting passage. I move
forward, taking you by the hips as I push my staff in,
up to its hilt. I slowly withdraw, almost completely,
only to glide inward once again. For a moment, I stop
all together, then start again, thrusting with increasing
speed, over and over, on and on, until our act comes
to an intense, if muted, climax.
Afterward, we share a prolonged kiss and a few subdued
laughs before putting our clothes and composures back
in order. We watch the film for a while, but for some
reason, it seems terribly dull. Soon, we decide to go home
and continue making our own entertainment. Leaving the
theater, we smile as we pass our usher, now tending the
refreshment counter. He winks, then looks away discreetly
as we exit, my hand cupping your warm, throbbing bottom.
Thanks so much Alex! I positively LOVE your stories...and you are so kind to allow me to share them with my readers...Kiss!
Emily
Great story. Thank you for sharing it with us.
ReplyDelete