We’ve had a great evening just goofing off – dinner, a little running around to different sites, just relaxing stuff. You decide you’d like to go cap it off with a movie… and I look at you like you’ve lost your mind. But you’re just ignoring me! I’m doing my best to give you a “whaaaaaaa?” look when you start talking about movies as you scan your phone for tickets.
We finally pick one, something I’ve never heard of – I’m not entirely sure why you chose it, but you tell me it was just “soon” and available. Honestly, I’ve already forgotten the name of it as we head into the theater, it’s that silly of a movie.
We pick up some popcorn and drinks and head in – there isn’t a soul to be seen and we’re only a few minutes until the show. You tell me to find a seat on the love seat version rows – every time I pick a row, all I get is “um, NO.” and then move up one… Same thing. I get almost to the back and you tell me that we don’t want to go all the way to the back – it would attract too much attention. I’m suddenly aware of how innocent I was in your arranging all of this.
We pick our seats and you immediately snuggle in. I start to put the coats next to us, but you grab them, look me in the eye and say “aren’t you glad the weather changed? I LOVE the colder weather….” and you pile the coats over us and burrow in, making yourself comfortable.
I can’t lie. I’m finally, finally suspicious of your intentions. I’ve caught that look in your eye. I’m trying to get my head around it when I feel your hand rubbing up against me under the coats. You lean up and kiss my neck, give my earlobe a good nibble and then start whispering…
“See, here’s the thing. In about 30 seconds, I’m going to start stroking you. I’m not stopping until this movie is over. Same speed, all the way through. You can stop me anytime. If I feel like speeding up, eh, I may. But feel free to stop me…”
I know there’s a catch. There’s ALWAYS a catch. “And if I do?” is all I say…
“Well, if you stop me, the number of minutes left in the movie, plus 20, is the number of orgasms you have to give me before you’re even remotely eligible. Seems pretty simple to me.”
I feel you undoing my pants under the coats.
“And, of course, there will be no messes here. Not one. But if there is, the same rules apply. So, I’d avoid stopping for any reason until the first credit rolls at the end of the show…”
I feel your hand around me, squeezing, and I feel myself harder than hard, completely taking over my lizard brain, which is totally disconcerting because I can’t have that for the next couple of hours, or I’m in trouble.
“And if you make it. I’ll give you the blowjob of your life out in the car when we leave… As they say in reality TV, sound like it’s worth playing for?” Again you squeeze and have managed to fully open my pants and pull me out, and you’re stroking before I can even answer.
You’re moving so slowly that all I keep getting are these blinding white flashes rocking through my brain. You’re stopping, swirling around me, rubbing, then descending on me, then pulling slowly back up. About every 10 minutes, you lock eyes with me and count down from 30 – 30 quick strokes at about 5 x the normal rate. Every time it takes me further out on the ledge. Luckily, the movie is semi-interesting. I think. I’m not sure. At least I can watch. Sort of.
These sensations are bordering on this continuum of torture and pleasure. A weird mix of hyper sensitivity and almost painful, but yet over-the-top amazingness too. It’s those quick runs every now and then that are most dangerous. I can feel myself giving in to you, I can feel myself starting to cross those “fuck-it, let’s do this” lines in my mind.
It’s becoming this accumulation of abject horniness, that look in your eyes when you look up at me and grin and my determination to take-in this movie that is my only hope for making it to the credits. My concentration amounts to the time between strokes at this point. We’re about 1 hour in and the cumulative effect is winning.
I’m doing my best not to move, but I’m losing and then it happens. That growl that you’re constantly on me about – I feel it start in my chest and roll up and softly out of me. I’m glad for the action scenes in the movie at this point, there’s more noise and I’m hoping you don’t hear me, don’t know how close I am.
But of course you do. You hear the growl and the gutteral noises that are sneaking out. You hear these and look up at me, grinning. Your prize is within reach. You know this – you know you can just push this and be done with it. You keep grinning at me as you tighten your grip slightly and speed up. Clearly the movie is winding down – and clearly I’m on the hairy edge of any kind of control. I’m also aware that I need to keep some sort of poker face on for the theater folks to at least pretend they don’t know what’s going on… it’s all playing in my head and I’m losing.
These flashes of nerves are running up and down my body now, adrenaline, locked muscles in my legs, my abs, my arms, my face. My eyes are shut and I’m fighting to keep composure but any hope of that has left a bit ago. I feel myself giving my responses over to you. You sense these too and increase your rhythm, your pressure, and making sure you’re on every, single, millimeter of me up, down twisting. You’re as much fighting to pull it out of me now as I am to prevent it.
It’s our own movie climax. I feel the inevitable. I see the movie winding down. I feel the rush blowing through my body and your hand on me, your eyes, you…. I open my eyes for just a flash and realize the lights have come up a bit and the credits are, and have been, rolling for at least a small bit.
“What,” You say when I look at you, about to scream…”I was waiting for you to let me know we had made it…”
“Congratulations… ” you say, licking your fingers. “I guess it’s time to head out.“