A Night at the Movies

He looked up at the old school marquee, the neon lights of the cinema reaching up into the night sky. He smiled, though his heart was pounding with anticipation. Like they always did, his eyes skimmed over the faces of the light, weekday-night downtown crowd, looking for her face.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the email for the 43rd time. It was a standard event flier – "See AMADEUS, in all its original glory! Feb 19-21, Tues, Wed, and Thurs at 9:15pm. Part of our summer ReView series..." – shared from some anonymous email address. Really nothing special save for the brief text below the flier:

Wed
     - O

That one letter set his heart thumping and his balls churning. She was here! For what purpose or for how long he had no idea, but she was here in the city again. He slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and then looked at his wristwatch: 9:05. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, his breath fogging in the crisp night air, and headed for the ticket booth.



The lights were dim but not yet dark in the expansive theater hall. The seating was old school, with low-backed chairs scrunched in close together on a gentle slope down toward the screen. He took off his coat and draped it over his left arm, walking slowly down the side aisle as his eyes adjusted, scanning the seats for...and there she was. About four rows from the back, near the middle, her profile unmistakable. Her raven-black hair was up in a way that made it look both elegant and casual at the same time. Even from the aisle he could see the large opal resting at the top of her expansive cleavage, hanging from a fine silver chain accentuating her pale, graceful neck.

He just stood there, disbelieving his senses, his heart thudding in his chest. Watched as a piece of popcorn approached those luscious, full lips, and then disappeared into her mouth. He just stood there, until she turned and their eyes met. His breath left his body and the sound in the theater hall faded from his awareness. He actually felt his fingers and toes grow cold as blood was shunted to more important functions. For a fraction of a second he questioned: Does she see me? Will she know me?, and then her smile broke like the sun over the mountains and he couldn't help but grin in return.

Before he knew what was happening he was beside her, looking down, thankful for the coat covering his crotch. "Hi," he managed to say, still smiling. Still dumbfounded to be here, with her.

"Hi," she said, returning his smile watt for watt.

Without looking away he sat down, an electric shock as his hand brushed hers on the armrest. They just sat and drank one another in, the only souls in the city – on the planet – for this brief time. Then, as if pulled in by the gravity of their desire he leaned in and kissed her.

When her full, soft lips met his it felt like nothing more than coming home. His left hand came across her body to cup her face, the face he dreamed about. Their lips parted and their tongues danced a familiar dance, where both partners know all the steps, anticipate one another's moves, seem to share a single body, a single mind. As they kissed time seemed to stop, except that his arousal grew higher and hotter and harder with each passing heartbeat. It was a kiss that he never wanted to end, and it wasn't finished yet.

His hand drifted down over the slope of her right breast and she arched her back, pressing up into him. When his hand reached where he knew her sensitive nipple to be he gave a firm, whole-hand squeeze, relishing the fullness and heft. Relishing even more the soft moan that resonated in their kiss.

Like a freight train going downhill with no brakes their passion continued to accelerate. His hand slid across her chest back toward him, and she turned her body so that he had better access to her left breast. Cupping, hefting, squeezing, brief sharp pinch, he played each breast like a concert pianist. He could quite literally do this all day, but he knew that her fires were burning and that she wanted more.

The lights dimmed the rest of the way as the previews started, but neither of our lovers noticed.

With one last tender squeeze his left hand began to slide down over her stomach, feeling her breath catch in his mouth as he slid past her waistband over her pants. As if in response her own left hand came over the armrest and down into his lap. Her touch was like electricity, setting off nerves all over his body. The long fingers of her left hand settled on his right thigh, squeezing gently and sliding up toward his crotch.

God, he could feel the heat of her pussy through her pants. For a moment he just cupped her vulva, putting a uniform pressure, savoring the moment. Then with the ball of his hand he began to push more insistently at her clit, making tiny, slow circles.

At almost the same moment her hand reached his balls, cupping them in a reverse grip and giving them a gentle but firm squeeze. It was his turn to moan into her mouth, as the touch that haunted his fantasies caressed him again, finally. As she bore down he grunted in pleasure and the heel of her hand pressed against the base of his rampant cock. She could tell that he wore no underwear under the thin dress pants, and her pussy throbbed at the thought.

Her hand moved, ever so slowly, up and across, tracing his thick, aching length with her palm. When she finally reached the wide, flared knob way over on his hip her fingertips caressed the distended mushroom in small circles, her thumb tracing the juncture of his cockhead with the shaft. Fuck, she forgot how big he was, how fucking thick. How she wanted that cock inside of her!

And suddenly her hand slid back down the steely length of his cock until her hand cupped his balls again. Back in her lap, his fingers found her clit and he began rubbing more insistently with more direct pressure. She gave his balls another hearty squeeze for encouragement, and then finally broke the kiss.

"How long?" she whispered, her face inches from his, looking deep into those hazel eyes.

He squeezed his eyes shut from the agonized pleasure for just a moment, and opened them, watering only slightly. "Since I got your message," he whispered back, and then leaned in to kiss her neck.

She let her head roll back and laughed softly. She had sent that message almost three weeks ago! These balls, she thought, giving another powerful squeeze, these fucking balls must be so full of cum, so wonderfully tender, just for me! Her clit throbbed and her pussy gushed anew at the thought. For his part his fingers never wavered in their steady, firm manipulation of her clit.

She had already cum four times that morning, thinking of tonight, of finally being with him again. Panties that had been fresh before she left the house were positively soaked by the time she saw him in the aisle. So this first orgasm with him came fast and hard, taking her breath away as she clenched her teeth and her eyes, her hand bore down on his swollen, tender balls. Her mouth fell open and she whispered, "Ohhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuck..."

He rode the waves with her, caressing that pussy that he knew so well, that he felt he had known his whole life. The ache in his balls doubled and then trebled, his cock flexing mightily and leaking more and more precum into his slacks. Fuck me, I'm definitely going to need that coat for cover on the way out, he thought in a fleeting moment of clarity.

Eventually her gripping hand on his balls began to relax. He slowed his ministrations but kept a light pressure on her pussy as her orgasm finally began to wane.

He pulled back from her neck, "God, I never get tired of that," he whispered in a growl, the bass in his voice seeming to resonate with her nipples and her clit.

Catching her breath, she whispered back, "How do you do that to me?"

He smiled with her in the dark, his hand snaking its way under her waistband. His fingers, immediately soaked in her juices, traced her smooth, warm folds. God, he loved the feel of her! He even loved the feel of her soft, drenched panties on the back of his hand.

"You feel like home," he breathed as he began to nibble on her ear. "I-"

But just then music filled the theater, and a snow-covered carriage appeared on the screen. "Shhhh, it's starting," she hissed, smiling, but didn't remove her hand from his crotch. He started to sit back and remove his hand from her pants when her right gripped his forearm and stopped him. "Just let me switch hands," he whispered, laughing softly. She relented, and his right hand replaced his left down her pants. As his fingers got back to work on her pussy, he took the opportunity to lick clean the fingers of his left hand while watching the screen. Fuck, she tasted so good! At that moment he wanted nothing more in the world than to taste the source of that heavenly nectar. He saw her watching in aroused surprise as he vigorously and eagerly cleaned his fingers. But he didn't care who saw or heard; all he cared about was drinking down her intoxicating essence, every drop he could get.

They settled in, her left hand cupping his full balls, occasionally twisting or squeezing, while his right worked her pussy in a slow, steady rhythm. Not a bad way to catch a film, he thought, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his slacks. He smiled and let the feelings wash over him.

After a few minutes, without looking away from the screen, she whispered, "Take it out."

As he carefully stowed his coat on the seat to his left, he finally remembered to look around the theater. Now that his eyes had adjusted he saw that there were a smattering of couples spread about, and a young lady in the row in front of them and a bit to their left, but mostly they were alone here near the back of the theater hall.

Very, very carefully he inched down his zipper. The soft but strong hand holding his balls let go and slipped into his trousers, seeming not to mind the gooey mess within. Her fingers quickly found their target and gripped the thick, veiny shaft. She squeezed, reveling in the iron hardness beneath the velvety soft skin, and in the fact that her fingers couldn't meet around his girth. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until she managed, finally and with some difficulty, to lever his cock free of his pants and it stood in the open air. She looked down, lasciviously licking her perfect, full lips as she gave his steely erection a few gentle strokes. Then she returned her gaze to the screen, her hand keeping a slow steady rhythm: from the base, up the vein-gnarled shaft, little twist as her fist bumped up against the flared knob, and then back down again. Soooooooo slowly...

They stayed like that, gently pleasuring one another, enjoying the film and the company, without a care in the world between them.



Somewhere in the second hour he started to lose it. She had alternated between steadily, lovingly caressing and stroking and teasing his desperate cock, and tormenting his swollen, tender balls. She was like a machine; she never seemed to tire or lose interest!

But even her tender ministrations had eventually pushed him to the brink of blowing his three-week load. But just as he knew her body almost instinctively, she, too seemed to have a sixth sense for what buttons to push, and how hard, and how often, to keep him riding that knife edge of orgasm without pushing him over. Again and again and again he worried he'd hose down the seats in front of them, but she never let him tip over that edge. His balls now felt like lead weights in his scrotum; swollen, bloated, and heavy with backed-up cum.

He bit back a moan as she brought him the edge for the umpteenth time. He tried desperately to focus on caressing her pussy, on strumming that clit and giving as good as he got, but he just could not focus! Enough was enough.

She teased him down from the edge and then gripped just his right testicle firmly in her palm, its girth almost filling her hand. Then her fingers clamped down and began to compress the cum-stuffed orb viciously, nutflesh beginning to bulge between her clenched fingers. His breath hissed in through his teeth as he let the exquisite torment wash over him.

Finally she relented, breathing a little heavily, and he had a moment to catch his breath. His testicle slowly, oh so slowly, regained its former oblong shape. He used this brief respite to make his move.

He pulled his right hand from her pants and inhaled the intoxicating scent on his fingers, as she mewled in frustration. Then he unbuttoned the left cuff on his dress shirt and began to roll up the sleeve.

The movie temporarily forgotten, she watched rapt as he worked his sleeve up over his forearm. He had fantastically long, dexterous fingers, like a world-class pianist or a surgeon. And even in the dark of the theater she could see the thick network of veins standing out on his slim, strong forearm.

Then he turned to her, his needy cock still protruding comically from his fly, and whispered sternly, "Now it's my turn." He turned and kissed her again, roughly this time. Not as a gentle, long-lost lover, but a caged animal, finally released and hungry. His left hand roughly opened her pants, granting him easier access, and then dove for her pussy. Once again he slipped under her slick panties, but this time his ring and middle finger slid over her clit and down her nether lips, finding the tight, wet entrance to her vagina.

His middle finger teased the opening, circling insistently and then applying pressure, release and circle, over and again. Finally the first two knuckles slipped in and she gasped into his mouth. She kissed him back with equal ardor as his ring finger joined his middle and both began to rock back and forth, penetrating her deeper and deeper.

A loud moan burst from her – thankfully masked by an especially energetic piano piece – as his fingers found the cluster of nerves on the upper wall of her vagina and the ball of his hand made contact with her engorged clitoris. She bit his lip and with one hand pulled his head into hers, and with the other gripped his forearm tight as his hand began to rock, hitting all the right spots at a perfect rhythm.

Higher and higher he stoked her pleasure, his own pleasure and passion rising with hers. He worked like a genius absorbed in his masterpiece, monomaniacal and preternaturally skilled.

She broke the kiss and looked down to watch his hand – his hand! – work its magic on her insatiable pussy. His arm was long and thin, tapering out gently from his wrist to the slight bulge of muscle at his forearm, and her pussy spasmed as she watched those muscles bunch and flex, the prominent veins swollen and visibly bulging with blood, with unrestrained passion. The light from the giant screen played over the network of thick veins on his forearm; breathless, she traced them with her thumb, feeling his ardor, his skin hot, their contact electric. Her eyes clenched in ecstasy as he literally rocked her; she squeezed his arm as the veins bulged and the muscles and tendons flexed, like a fucking machine in perfect tune. Fuck! Like this, just like this, forever...

The waves of pleasure washed over her, crashing higher and harder with each wave. The orgasm built steadily; not like that first one, which exploded almost out of nowhere. This originated in both her clit and vagina, and built and built until every nerve in her body was tingling and she could feel the imminent orgasm reaching that mind-numbing crescendo. And then the dam broke, and the pleasure that had been building for untold minutes exploded over her whole body, overwhelming her senses and her mind. She could do nothing, her thoughts were blank, her entire universe consisted of his hand, and his mouth, and the waves of pleasure buffeting her like a fishing boat in a hurricane.

Even after the orgasm began it somehow continued to build and progress, and they rode the waves together, locked in the most intimate place two humans can be.

Eventually the crashing waves began to subside, and the pleasure softened to gentle pulses. He kept his fingers inside her, rocking very gently, almost lazily, and he kissed her lips and cheek softly.

She opened her eyes and looked into his, with his fingers still inside her. There were no words for this moment, and thankfully none were required. They stared at one another for a moment – for an hour, for an eternity – and then she put her hands on his face and kissed him, a single tear escaping to run over her cheek.

As they pulled back she grinned widely and laughed, that honest, heartfelt, unselfconscious laugh that he loved so much. One of the couples near the front hissed, "Shhhhh!" in unison, which only caused both of them to laugh more, covering their mouths and giggling uncontrollably.

At some point the lovers recovered and watched the movie together for awhile. But it wasn't long before his still-rampant erection caught her eye once again.

She leaned over and traced her index finger up the underside of his trembling cock. "Poor baby, you must really want to cum, huh?" she whispered, her breath on his ear sending a shiver down his spine. His cock flexed in response and a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. His cockhead was so swollen and hard she could watch the movie in it!

With one delicate finger she scooped the dollop of his arousal and brought it to her mouth, sucking it in with a lascivious sound. "Mmmmmmm," she moaned as she swallowed. He bit his lip and his balls throbbed something fierce as he watched her relish her treat.

Then without a word she leaned over the armrest and wrapped her perfect lips around the head of his cock. He actually had to bite the back of his hand to stifle the guttural groan that tried to escape. She bobbed her head very slightly, her tongue dancing around the distended knob. As she slid her mouth further down, her right hand slipped down and hefted his bloated sack as if testing its weight.

Slowly, she rose up off of his cock, slipping free with an audible *POP*. "Oooooh, honey, your poor balls feel so full. Do they ache?" He knew the question was rhetorical, designed to tease and torment him to the utmost and beyond, so he only moaned softly in response.

"Do you want to cum for me?" she whispered right into his ear, as her hand squeezed his balls yet again.

"Please..." he whimpered.

"Please what, My Dear?" she inquired.

"Please...don't stop..."

A broad smile served as her reply, and she dipped down again to take him in her mouth. She began to work him in earnest, her tongue swirling, her lips caressing and sliding down almost half his length, her jaw stretched wide around his girth. Her right hand would alternate between firm strokes chasing her mouth, and squeezing each cum-bloated testicle in turn.

While he wanted this to last – to live in this moment in these feelings, forever – his long abstinence and the evening's pleasures were simply too much. He fought back his long-denied orgasm with everything he had, but he was no match for her. He felt the tipping point, the pleasure and the pressure building to a maximum, and she just kept working him over, urging him on.

Finally, finally, he felt the contractions starting, the gallons of pent-up cum boiling over. His cock grew harder, and harder still, flexing and somehow getting even thicker, stretching her jaw and her lips painfully. But still she did not stop. He gritted his teeth and low growl started in his chest as his balls began to clench...

And then she popped up, as the lights came up, shocking him out of the moment, his cock twitching and straining on the knife-edge of orgasm. As the pleasure slowly, oh so slowly, began to fade, the intense pressure settled back into his tender, aching balls. He looked up to find the credits almost done, and saw her smiling face.

"Wasn't that great?" she exclaimed, loud enough for the other patrons to hear. "Now you know why it's my absolute favorite film," she said with a wink.

As he was still blinking in the bright lights, his spit-and-precum slicked cock on display for all to see, she somehow managed to stand, collect her wallet and coat, and start walking away. Just a few seats down she stopped, and turned to walk back. She leaned down, placing her palm on top of his testicles and then, compressing them with her weight, leaned in and gave him one last, long kiss. Then without a word she turned and left the theater.

He just sat there, dazed. He was so out of it he didn't even hear the shutter-sound of the young woman's phone snapping a sequence of pictures.

The clang of the door shook him from his stupor and he hurriedly tried to wedge his throbbing cock back into his slacks. Just as he had feared his crotch was a total mess, not to mention that his twitching erection was ridiculously obvious through the thin slacks. He took a deep breath, draped his coat over his arm to shield his crotch, and made his own way out into the brisk night air.

He could still smell her, taste her on his lips. Saturday seemed a lifetime away, especially to his poor balls, but it would be worth the wait.

As he walked down the sidewalk he couldn't help but look up at the stars, and wonder at the staggering beauty in the universe.



She was still giddily walking on air as she turned the key in the lock and stepped inside. As she automatically slipped her wallet from her coat pocket and deposited it on the entry table she noticed a business card flutter to the floor.

Looking at the card, her brow furrowed in mild confusion, she slipped her coat from her shoulders and hung it on the standing coat-rack. Then she bent and retrieved the card from the floor.

"Crown Hotel," she muttered softly to herself. Her heart skipped a beat as she flipped it over and saw the writing on the back:

Saturday
Rm 1220
	- D

That one letter caused her to lick her lips, a flush rising on her breasts, a spark igniting her clit anew. She squeezed her thighs together and laughed softly to herself, already thinking of what to wear...


2021.02.20