effort of it, gripping her thighs until her fingernails dug in while Milan circled his fingers round and round, rubbing and flicking, bringing forth gushes of juice in the process.
“Touch your breasts,” he whispered, working the bud of flesh harder. “Put your hands up under your fleece and do it.”
Sounds struggled to escape the back of Lydia’s throat, but she bit them back and put one trembling hand inside her sweater, stroking her nipple through her cotton bra cup, finding it rock hard and almost itchy with need.
“Ohh,” she whispered, anxious now that her heavier breathing could attract attention from the people in the row in front. “Please.”
She threw her head back against the maroon plush and shut her eyes, tense and filled with the need to end this, to come, to regain control of her body. But Milan was enjoying his power and he teased at her needy clit, poking and prodding at the hole below for a spell, then returning to it while Lydia flicked compulsively at her nipples.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered. “I think you’d let me fuck you right here in the cinema. I think you’d let me put you on the stage at the front and have you right there while they all watched. What if the film was us, fucking, for all to see?”
The combination of his touch and his words did their unerring work. Lydia jolted forward and ground against his hand, gasping as quietly as her orgasm would allow, squeezing her breasts hard.
“Mmm…” He chuckled quietly, removing his hand. “You’re a fast learner. I didn’t think you’d let me do that.”
Lydia felt at once oddly proud and ashamed. Should she have said no? Did Milan think better or worse of her for going along with his depraved plans? Was she uptight or permissive? No, she berated herself, she was simply a woman who adored a man and wanted him in every way. What was wrong with that?
“I’m not as prim and proper as you seem to think,” she whispered back.
“Well, I know that after the other night. Mmm, taste?”
He put one of his fingers to her lips and she allowed him to push it in, tasting and smelling her own arousal mixed with the hot popcorn cinema aroma.
He didn’t allow her to button her jeans back up until the film ended and she sat, feeling her own juices chill against her skin, her nipples still hard as pebbles, letting him knead at her denimed crotch and kiss her willing mouth until the credits rolled.
“It’s a good thing I’ve already seen it,” she remarked as they stepped out of the cinema into the brisk, bleak air of the winter Saturday afternoon. “I didn’t have a clue what was going on there.”
“Oh, you didn’t say you saw it before,” he said, taking her hand and striding purposefully towards Covent Garden. “It only came out this week. You saw it yesterday?”
“Um, yes.” Lydia felt a change of subject might be in order. “So where are we going now? Are we really going shopping?”
“Yes. Who did you see it with?”
“A friend.”
“A girl friend, I hope. I am terribly jealous. Strangely so, for a man who enjoys threesomes and group sex. But if you are going to fuck other men you have to have my permission.”
“Yes, a girl friend,” said Lydia, a mite cross and uncomfortable at having her sex life dictated to her in the middle of the street.
All the same, the irritation was ameliorated by the way every other person stopped to gawp at them, pointing and whispering.
That’s Milan Kaspar from The Next Big String, she imagined them saying. Phwoar, I fancy him rotten. Who’s that lucky cow on his arm? Must be his girlfriend. Oh, I wish I could be her.
She held up her head and threw back her shoulders, imagining herself gliding down the red carpet with him at some glitzy televised event.
“Which girl friend? Vanessa, I suppose.”
He didn’t sound happy.
“No, not Vanessa.”
“Good. Because she hates me and will try to get you away from me.”
“Why does she hate you?”
“Never
“Touch your breasts,” he whispered, working the bud of flesh harder. “Put your hands up under your fleece and do it.”
Sounds struggled to escape the back of Lydia’s throat, but she bit them back and put one trembling hand inside her sweater, stroking her nipple through her cotton bra cup, finding it rock hard and almost itchy with need.
“Ohh,” she whispered, anxious now that her heavier breathing could attract attention from the people in the row in front. “Please.”
She threw her head back against the maroon plush and shut her eyes, tense and filled with the need to end this, to come, to regain control of her body. But Milan was enjoying his power and he teased at her needy clit, poking and prodding at the hole below for a spell, then returning to it while Lydia flicked compulsively at her nipples.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered. “I think you’d let me fuck you right here in the cinema. I think you’d let me put you on the stage at the front and have you right there while they all watched. What if the film was us, fucking, for all to see?”
The combination of his touch and his words did their unerring work. Lydia jolted forward and ground against his hand, gasping as quietly as her orgasm would allow, squeezing her breasts hard.
“Mmm…” He chuckled quietly, removing his hand. “You’re a fast learner. I didn’t think you’d let me do that.”
Lydia felt at once oddly proud and ashamed. Should she have said no? Did Milan think better or worse of her for going along with his depraved plans? Was she uptight or permissive? No, she berated herself, she was simply a woman who adored a man and wanted him in every way. What was wrong with that?
“I’m not as prim and proper as you seem to think,” she whispered back.
“Well, I know that after the other night. Mmm, taste?”
He put one of his fingers to her lips and she allowed him to push it in, tasting and smelling her own arousal mixed with the hot popcorn cinema aroma.
He didn’t allow her to button her jeans back up until the film ended and she sat, feeling her own juices chill against her skin, her nipples still hard as pebbles, letting him knead at her denimed crotch and kiss her willing mouth until the credits rolled.
“It’s a good thing I’ve already seen it,” she remarked as they stepped out of the cinema into the brisk, bleak air of the winter Saturday afternoon. “I didn’t have a clue what was going on there.”
“Oh, you didn’t say you saw it before,” he said, taking her hand and striding purposefully towards Covent Garden. “It only came out this week. You saw it yesterday?”
“Um, yes.” Lydia felt a change of subject might be in order. “So where are we going now? Are we really going shopping?”
“Yes. Who did you see it with?”
“A friend.”
“A girl friend, I hope. I am terribly jealous. Strangely so, for a man who enjoys threesomes and group sex. But if you are going to fuck other men you have to have my permission.”
“Yes, a girl friend,” said Lydia, a mite cross and uncomfortable at having her sex life dictated to her in the middle of the street.
All the same, the irritation was ameliorated by the way every other person stopped to gawp at them, pointing and whispering.
That’s Milan Kaspar from The Next Big String, she imagined them saying. Phwoar, I fancy him rotten. Who’s that lucky cow on his arm? Must be his girlfriend. Oh, I wish I could be her.
She held up her head and threw back her shoulders, imagining herself gliding down the red carpet with him at some glitzy televised event.
“Which girl friend? Vanessa, I suppose.”
He didn’t sound happy.
“No, not Vanessa.”
“Good. Because she hates me and will try to get you away from me.”
“Why does she hate you?”
“Never
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