At The Movies
By ejd1711.
Unbelievable. She’d told him. She’d fucking told him this would happen. Another midnight movie she didn’t want to see, another nap for Ed. She shifted, the thin cotton of her sundress riding up her thighs. The theater was a tomb, cold and empty except for a few scattered souls miles away. A total waste.
A rustle came from directly behind her. She hadn’t even noticed anyone there. She stiffened, her sarcastic side ready to snap at whoever was kicking her seat.
But no kick came. Instead, a warm breath ghosted the shell of her ear, raising every tiny hair on her neck. “He’s out cold,” a low, unfamiliar voice murmured. It wasn’t a question.
Lenora froze, her own breath catching in her chest. Don’t turn around. Don’t you dare. She stayed perfectly still, staring straight ahead at the flashing screen, her heart hammering against her ribs. Thump-thump-thump.
“That’s a shame,” the voice continued, so close she could feel the vibration of it. “A woman like you … shouldn’t be so lonely.”
Her mouth, usually so quick with a retort, went completely dry. She should elbow Ed awake. She should get up and move. But the warmth of the alcohol in her veins made her limbs feel heavy, liquid. A dangerous curiosity pooled low in her belly.
A single, large hand settled on her bare shoulder. She jumped at the contact, a tiny, muffled squeak escaping her lips. Mmmph! His thumb began to stroke slow, lazy circles on her skin. It was … nice. So fucking nice. A shiver ran down her spine, a direct line from his touch to the suddenly aching spot between her legs.
“So soft,” he whispered. His other hand joined the first, sliding down her arm, his fingers tracing the outline of her bicep. “You’re trembling.”
“I… I should…” she started, but the protest was weak, a whisper lost in the movie’s soundtrack.
“You should relax,” he finished for her, his voice a dark promise. His hands slid forward, over the crests of her shoulders, and dipped lower. The backs of his knuckles brushed against the tops of her breasts, exposed by her dress’s neckline. A jolt of pure electricity shot through her. Gasp!
Her head lolled back against the headrest, her eyes fluttering shut. This was insane. Wrong. Ed was right there. But his touch … it was nothing like Ed’s hesitant, self-conscious caresses. This was confident. Demanding.
His fingers trailed along the thin strap of her pink bra, tracing it slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every inch. The fabric shifted under his touch, slipping down her shoulder until the strap hung loose. He followed it like a predator stalking its prey, his rough, hot palm sliding lower until it cupped her entire left breast. His fingers splayed out, claiming her through the thin layers of her dress and the delicate lace of her bra. She could feel the weight of his hand, the heat of it searing her skin even through the fabric.
He squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but with a firmness that made her breath hitch. Her back arched off the seat involuntarily, her body betraying her in ways she couldn’t control. A low moan, uhnnn, rippled from her throat before she could stop it, her face flushing hot with a mix of shame and arousal. She clamped her mouth shut, desperate to stifle the sound, but it was too late. He’d heard it.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a dark purr that sent shivers down her spine. His thumb flicked over the stiff peak of her nipple, teasing it through the lace until it was achingly hard. “Such a perfect fucking tit.” He pinched the sensitive nub, and her hips jerked in response, her thighs pressing together as a fresh wave of heat pooled between them. Fuck. She couldn’t help it. Her body was alive in a way it hadn’t been in years, every nerve ending screaming for more.
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “You’re shaking, m’am. So fucking needy already.” His other hand joined the first, tugging the other bra strap down until both her breasts were fully cupped in his big, calloused palms. He squeezed both at once, kneading them with a rhythm that made her head spin. Her pussy clenched around nothing, aching for something she couldn’t name—something he clearly knew how to give.
His thumbs brushed over her nipples in tandem, rolling them between his fingers until she was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood, her hands gripping the armrests like they might keep her grounded. But nothing could stop the way her body responded to him—the way her hips rocked faintly, seeking friction, or the way her cunt throbbed with every flick of his fingers.
“Let me hear you,” he growled, his voice low and demanding. He twisted her nipples sharply, and this time she couldn’t hold back. A strangled cry escaped her lips, muffled by the hand she’d slapped over her mouth. It was too much, the pleasure too intense, too forbidden. But he didn’t stop. He kept teasing and pinching, his hands relentless, until she was trembling like a leaf, her skin flushed and sensitive, her mind a fog of need and guilt.
This can’t be happening, she thought desperately, even as her body begged for more. Even as she knew she’d already crossed a line there was no coming back from.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his mouth now pressed against her neck, his lips moving against her pulse point. “Such a beautiful fucking tit. I can feel your nipple, so hard for me already.” He pinched the stiff peak through the fabric, and Lenora’s hips bucked involuntarily. Fuck.
His hand left her breast, and she almost whimpered at the loss, but then it was sliding up her inner thigh, pushing the hem of her sundress up with it. The cool air of the theater hit her damp panties, and she shuddered. Oh god. His fingers traced the soaked cotton, outlining her lips, pressing down on the swollen nub of her clit.
“You’re fucking dripping,” he growled into her ear, his own breathing becoming ragged. “Is this all for me? While your husband sleeps?”
“No… No… I can’t…” she pleaded, her voice trembling, a thin whisper lost in the dark. But her body was screaming yes, hips grinding against his hand in tiny, helpless circles, betraying her every word. The wet sound of her arousal was obscenely loud in her ears. Slosh. She could feel the heat radiating from between her thighs, the dampness soaking through her panties and into the seat beneath her. Every movement of his fingers sent a jolt of electricity through her, lighting up every nerve ending until she was trembling like a leaf.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to stifle the sounds threatening to escape her lips. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that made her toes curl in her sandals. A low, strangled moan slipped out despite her efforts to keep quiet, uhnnn, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle it. Her other hand gripped the armrest so tightly her knuckles turned white, her nails digging into the worn fabric. This shouldn’t feel this good, but it did, and that realization terrified her.
“You can,” he growled into her ear, his voice a dark, commanding rasp that sent shivers down her spine. “And you will.” The words weren’t a suggestion—they were an order, one she didn’t have the strength to refuse. His fingers hooked into the side of her panties, tearing the flimsy fabric aside with one sharp tug. The cool air of the theater hit her exposed cunt, making her shudder, but before she could even process the sensation, his middle finger plunged inside her without warning. Squelch. The sudden intrusion made her gasp, her back arching off the seat as her body instinctively tried to accommodate him.
He wasted no time, fucking her with his hand in slow, deliberate strokes, the wet sounds of her own arousal filling the air around them. Slip. Slosh. Slip. His other hand kept working her clit, pressing and rubbing in a rhythm that coiled the tension in her belly tighter and tighter. Her hips moved involuntarily, grinding against his fingers as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Each thrust of his hand sent waves of heat crashing through her, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling with the need for release.
“So fucking tight,” he grunted, adding a second finger to stretch her even more. “Does your husband have a tiny dick?”
“Yesss,” she moaned.
“How small is it?” the voice insisted.
“Four inches,” she whispered.
The stranger laughed, and it sent shivers down her spine. “This pussy deserves better than that. It deserves a real dick in it, not your husband’s babydick.”
The stretch of her pussy walls around his probing fingers burned slightly, but it was quickly eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure radiating from where his fingers moved inside her. His fingers felt bigger than Ed’s dick, she realized with a jolt of shame—and something else, something dark and forbidden that made her clench around him. He was stretching her in ways Ed’s small dick never could. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed to stop. How could this feel so good?
His fingers curled inside her, probing deeper, hitting spots Ed’s small dick had never even come close to. She bit down on her lip to stifle another moan, her hips rocking faintly against his hand despite herself. The wet sound of his fingers moving in and out of her was obscene, slosh, slip, slosh, echoing in the empty theater like a filthy soundtrack. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body yielding to him in ways she hadn’t known were possible.
“You’re made for this,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot and uneven. “Made to take more than that weak little dick.” His words were cruel, cutting, but they only made her hotter, her cunt clenching around his fingers as if to prove him right. She hated how much she liked it, how much she wanted it. This was wrong. But it also felt so, so right.
The stretch burned slightly, but it was quickly eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure radiating from where his fingers moved inside her. “You love this, don’t you? Being used like a cheap slut in a dark theater.” The words should have shamed her, but instead, they only made her hotter, her cunt clenching around his fingers as if to prove him right. Oh god. Her mind was a haze of need and guilt, her body utterly enslaved to the sensations he was drawing from her.
Her free hand flew down to grip his wrist, not to push him away but to anchor herself as the pressure inside her reached a breaking point. Her thighs trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and she knew she was close—so close—but she couldn’t let go. Not here. Not like this. “Please…” she whispered, though whether it was a plea for him to stop or to finish her, even she didn’t know.
His response was to twist his fingers inside her, curling them just so, and that was it. She shattered, her vision blurring as the orgasm tore through her with brutal intensity. Splurtch. Gush. Her body convulsed, wetness gushing from her in a torrent that soaked his hand, the seat, everything. Squirt. Splash. It was humiliating, primal, and utterly undeniable. “You can,” he insisted, hooking his fingers into the side of her panties. “And you will.” With a sharp tug, he ripped the flimsy cotton aside, exposing her bare cunt to the cool, dusty air. His middle finger, thick and insistent, plunged into her without warning. Squelch.
Lenora’s eyes flew open, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Glrk. He was inside her. A stranger’s finger was deep inside her, and Ed was snoring beside her. The violation, the sheer taboo of it, sent a tidal wave of heat through her. She was so wet, his finger sliding in and out with obscene ease. Slip. Slosh. Slip.
“So fucking tight. So cock-starved in there,” he grunted, adding a second finger, stretching her. “You love this, don’t you? Being used like a cheap slut in a dark theater.”
“No,” she whispered, the lie tasting pathetic even to her. Her hand flew down, not to push him away, but to clamp over her own mouth, stifling the moans that threatened to wake the entire complex. Her other hand gripped the armrest, her knuckles white.
He twisted his fingers inside her, curling them, searching when he found that spongy spot deep within her, he rubbed it relentlessly. Ohgodohgod. Her vision is spotted. Pleasure, sharp and coiling, began to build at her core, a pressure begging for release.
“That’s it, make yourself cum on my hand,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “I want to feel you fucking squirt all over me.”
His thumb found her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. It was too much. The images on the screen blurred into meaningless light. The sound of the movie faded into a distant roar. All she could feel was his hand working her cunt, the filthy, wet sounds of her own arousal, and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that she was about to come apart for a man whose face she hadn’t even seen.
The orgasm smashed into her, a silent, screaming wave of release that clenched every muscle in her body. Her back bowed, her toes curled in her sandals, and a hot gush of fluid erupted from her, soaking his hand, the seat under her, everything. Splurtch. Gush. It kept coming, a torrent of pleasure she didn’t even know she was capable of. Squirt. Splash.
She collapsed back into the seat, trembling, panting, utterly spent. The stranger slowly withdrew his soaked fingers, and she felt the loss profoundly, a sudden, empty ache.
He brought his glistening hand over her shoulder, holding it in front of her face. “Look at that,” he commanded. “Look what you fucking did. I bet your husband’s babydick never made you cum like that.”
She stared, mesmerized, at the thick fluid shining on his skin in the dim light. The smell of her own sex filled the air, mingling with the popcorn.
Lenora’s mind was still reeling, her body limp and trembling from the force of her release, when she felt his hands grip her waist. Before she could process, or even think to resist, he was lifting her from the seat with surprising ease. Her legs wobbled, unsteady from the lingering aftershocks of her orgasm, but he didn’t give her time to falter.
He guided her silently, one hand on her hip, the other gripping her arm, leading her up the few steps into the back row—his row, directly behind Ed. The muffled sound of snoring was still there, a constant, pitiful reminder of how close her pathetic husband was, and yet, how utterly oblivious.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled into the row, her sandals scuffing against the sticky floor. He positioned her in the center of the seats, his presence looming behind her like a shadow she couldn’t escape. The scent of his cologne, sharp and masculine, overwhelmed her senses, mingling with the damp heat still radiating from between her thighs.
She wanted to say something—anything—to stop this madness. But her voice caught in her throat, strangled by a mix of fear and anticipation. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, and whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” The command sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded faintly, her body betraying her once again.
His hands returned to her hips, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, and the sheer size of it made her stomach clench. Oh god. He wasn’t wasting any time. One hand slid up to her shoulder, turning her slightly so they were both facing the screen, while the other moved lower, brushing against the hem of her dress.
Lenora’s knees almost buckled as his fingers grazed the soaking mess he’d left between her thighs. She bit down on her lip to stifle a moan, her eyes darting toward Ed’s slumped form just a few feet away. This can’t be happening, she thought, even as her body betrayed her, arching back into his touch.
He chuckled softly, a dark, knowing sound that sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. And she knew he was right.
“Now open your fucking mouth,” he whispered, his cock, thick and terrifyingly real, appearing over her shoulder. It was so much bigger than Ed’s. So much. Over twice the length and thickness. “You’re going to taste yourself on me.”
The sheer, impossible stretch of her lips around him was a shock that reverberated through her entire skull. A muffled mmmpfh! Escaped her, a choked sound of pure, overwhelmed sensation. He was so fucking big, so thick, her jaw ached with the strain immediately. She could taste herself on him, that musky, sweet-salty flavor she knew so well, now mingling with the clean, masculine scent of his skin and the faint, threatening pre-cum already beading at his tip.
“That’s it,” his voice was a low, gravelly hum above the movie’s soundtrack. One of his hands came up, his fingers tangling firmly in her dark hair, not yanking, but holding her in place with an authority that made her cunt clench around nothing. “Now get it wet. All of it.”
He didn’t thrust. He just held himself there, the head of his big cock nudging the back of her throat, making her gag reflex twitch. God, Ed’s never filled me like this, the thought flitted through the vodka haze, a treacherous betrayal that sent a fresh wave of heat between her legs. She felt her own saliva start to pool, a desperate, automatic response to the intrusion. A thick, wet glrk sound echoed in her own ears as she tried to adjust, to accommodate him.
Her eyes, wide and watering, were locked on Ed’s profile, slack and peaceful in sleep just a few seats away. The absurdity, the terrifying danger of it, was like a drug. Her husband, snoring softly, was completely oblivious to the fact that a stranger’s massive cock was being deep-throated by his wife right behind him. The thought, the filthy, nasty reality of it, made her suck harder, her tongue instinctively swirling around the pulsing vein underneath his shaft.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, a sound of pure appreciation that vibrated through his body and into hers. His grip on her hair tightened just a fraction. “You’re a natural fucking cocksucker, aren’t you? Bet your husband never gets this. That pecker is so small it’s not worth sucking.”
He finally began to move, a slow, easy slide out until just the tip remained between her lips, then a deliberate, pushing thrust back in. Slrp. Glrk. The wet, obscene noises were deafening in the empty row. Each time he pushed back in, her nose buried in the crisp fabric of his jeans, inhaling his scent. Each time he pulled back, a string of spit connected her lips to his glistening crown.
Her free hand, the one not braced against the seat in front of her, crept down. She couldn’t help it. The ache between her own legs was a throbbing, desperate need. As his hips began to piston faster, setting a rhythm that made her whole body rock, her fingers slipped under the damp hem of her sundress, past the elastic of her soaked pink panties. Oh god. She was absolutely drenched. Her own fingers slid through her slick folds with a soft, squelching sound.
He saw it. Of course, he saw it. A dark, hungry chuckle rumbled from his chest. “That’s my girl. Playing with that pretty little cunt while you suck my big cock. You’re a fucking slut, aren’t you? A proper, hungry little theater slut.”
The words should have shamed her. They did shame her. But the shame was a spark on gasoline. Her hips began to buck against her own hand in time with his thrusts, her moans gurgling around his cock. Mmmph! Glllk!
“I want to feel you cum,” he growled, his rhythm becoming harder, more urgent. His balls slapped against her chin with a soft, rhythmic thap thap thap. “I want to feel that pretty throat constrict around me when you lose it. Cum for me. Now.”
The command, combined with the relentless pressure of his cock fucking her face and the frantic circles her middle finger was making on her clit, was too much. The orgasm ripped through her without warning, a silent, seismic shock that locked every muscle in her body. Her eyes screwed shut, a strangled, muffled scream trapped in her throat as her cunt convulsed, gushing around her fingers. Squelch. Squirt. She felt the hot spill of her own release soak her panties and drip down her inner thighs.
Feeling her climax, he grunted, pulling his cock from her mouth with a final, wet pop. Strands of spit and her own juices connected her lips to his shaft for a second before breaking. She gasped for air, her body trembling violently, her forehead falling against the cold plastic of the seat in front of her.
She expected him to finish himself, to stroke that huge cock and mark her. But he didn’t.
Instead, his hands were on her hips again, spinning her around in the confined space. Before she could process it, he had her sundress off and over her head, leaving her bare-breasted and exposed. She gasped, the chill of the theater air hitting her skin, but he didn’t stop there. With a quick, deliberate motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pink panties and yanked them down her legs, tossing them onto the seat beside him alongside her crumpled dress and bra. She was suddenly naked, her long, sensitive nipples hardening under the cool air and his hungry gaze. Her cunt, already slick and throbbing, was now fully exposed, and she felt a wave of dizzying vulnerability as she realized just how raw and open she was to him.
“That’s better,” he murmured, his voice low and approving. His eyes roamed over her body, lingering on her breasts, her flushed skin, and the glistening wetness between her thighs. “Now let’s see what else you can do for me.”
She heard the rustle of his jeans being shoved down further. Then the broad, insistent head of his cock was pressing against her entrance, a threat and a promise.
“No, wait,” she whispered hoarsely, the words scraping her raw throat. It was a token protest, a performative act of resistance. She pushed back against him even as she said it, her body begging for what her mouth was denying.
He ignored her completely. One hand fisted in her hair again, yanking her head back, while the other guided his cock. “You don’t tell me to wait,” he breathed into her ear, his voice dripping with dark intent. “Your greedy cunt is mine now.”
With one powerful, brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside her to the hilt.
Lenora’s world splorted into a million pieces. A broken, gasping cry was torn from her lungs, far too loud for the quiet theater. He was so fucking big, stretching her, filling her in a way she’d never, ever known was possible. It was a burning, delicious, overwhelming fullness that erased every thought, every worry, every shred of her identity as a respectable wife.
“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, his hips flush against her ass. “You’re so goddamn tight. Like a fucking vice. That’s what you get fucking a loser with a tiny dick, bitch.”
He didn’t move, just let her feel every thick, pulsing inch of him buried deep inside her trembling body. Her internal muscles fluttered around him, trying to adjust, each spasm a fresh jolt of pleasure-pain. The sheer size of him was overwhelming, stretching her in ways she had never imagined possible. Lenora could feel the heat of his cock radiating through her core, making her body ache with a mix of need and shock. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire, every breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to process the intensity of the sensation.
Her hands gripped the edge of the seat in front of her, her knuckles turning white from the effort to stay upright. She could feel the muscles in her thighs quivering, struggling to support her as he held himself there, deep and unyielding. The stretch was almost too much, yet it was exactly what her body craved. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips as she felt him pulse inside her, the faint twitch of his cock sending shockwaves through her already overstimulated senses.
“Dear God,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re… so…” But the words failed her, lost in the haze of pleasure and pain that consumed her. Her body began to rock slightly, instinctively seeking more friction, more of that impossible fullness. The movement drew a groan from him, deep and primal, as if her body’s response was almost too much for him to bear.
He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot against her ear. “Feel that?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “That’s what a real cock feels like, slut. That’s what you’ve been missing all these years, you’ve been diddling your husband’s little pecker.”
With that, he withdrew slowly, almost completely, leaving her feeling hollow and aching. Then, with a sharp thrust, he was back inside her, filling her to the hilt once more. She gasped, her body instinctively arching into him, craving more of that delicious friction. Each time he pulled back, she felt an emptiness that left her desperate for his return. And each time he slammed back in, it was like a jolt of electricity coursing through her, sending waves of pleasure radiating out from her core.
Her internal muscles clenched around him involuntarily, as if trying to keep him there, to hold onto that incredible feeling for as long as possible. He laughed softly, a dark, knowing sound that sent shivers down her spine. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You’re taking it so well.” His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her still as he continued to move within her, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of insanity.
Then he drew back, almost all the way out, the sensation a devastating loss, before slamming back into her with a force that drove her forward. Thump. The sound of their bodies meeting was raw and animalistic.
“Your husband,” he grunted, pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a punishing, magnificent rhythm. Thump. Thump. “Can he fuck you like this?”
“N-no,” she moaned, the word barely audible.
“Does he make you scream?” Thump.
“No!”
“Does he make this sweet pussy squirt all over the floor?” Thump. Splosh. The wet sounds of their fucking were obscenely loud.
“No! God, no!” she cried out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the carpeted theater floor. “I can’t even feel Ed inside me.”
He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his mouth next to her ear. “Then be quiet,” he whispered, the command a sharp contrast to the brutality of his thrusts. “Or you’ll wake him up. And then he’ll see what a dirty fucking whore he married. He’ll see how you’ve cucked him in public.”
His grip on her hips tightened, a silent command that brooked no argument. With a final, wet squelch, he pulled his thick cock out of her, leaving her achingly empty and dripping onto the floor. Before she could even process the loss, his hands were on her, spinning her around with a rough, effortless strength that made her head spin. The empty theater seats stretched out before her like a judgmental audience, and there, just a few feet away, slumped in a drunken stupor, was Ed. His soft snore was a quiet, rhythmic counterpoint to the frantic beating of her own heart.
“Up,” the stranger’s voice was a low, gravelly command directly in her ear. He guided her, his hands firm on her bare waist, maneuvering her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the plush, worn fabric of the seat in the row behind them. “Sit. Now.”
Her body obeyed before her mind could form a protest. She sank into the seat, the material crinkling and sticking unpleasantly to her bare ass and thighs. Before she could get her bearings, he was on her, his powerful frame looming over her, knees pressing into the seat on either side of her hips. He wasn’t gentle. He guided his cock, that monstrous, glorious thing, to her soaked entrance. The broad, leaking head pressed against her, a familiar and terrifying pressure.
“Face him,” the man growled, one hand tangling in her dark hair and pulling her head back against his chest, forcing her to look directly at her sleeping husband. “I want you to watch him while his wife gets the fucking of her life.”
He drove into her in one brutal, upward thrust. Schlllllp. Her back arched violently, a choked gasp tearing from her throat. Oh god, oh fuck, he’s so deep. The stretch was immense, bordering on pain, a feeling her husband’s modest cock had never, ever given her. Her own fingers dug into the sticky armrests, her knuckles white.
“You see him?” the stranger whispered hotly against her ear, his hips already setting a punishing rhythm. Thump. Splosh. Thump. The sound of their bodies meeting, of her wetness coating him, was filthy and loud. “He thinks he’s an alpha. But he’s sleeping while a real man fucks his wife’s tight little cunt raw.”
Tears of shame welled in her eyes, but a wave of pure, undiluted pleasure immediately blurred them. Her head lolled back against his shoulder, her eyes struggling to stay focused on Ed’s peaceful, oblivious face. He can’t see. He doesn’t know. Oh, but he’s right there.
“Your tiny dick husband could never fill you up like this, could he?” he grunted, his pace increasing. Each upward drive rubbed that magnificent spot inside her that made her see stars. “He could never make this sweet pussy gush.”
“N-no,” she moaned, the word barely audible. It was a confession and a plea rolled into one.
“What was that?” he taunted, one hand sliding from her hip around to her front, his fingers finding her swollen clit with unerring accuracy. He began to circle it, the pressure firm and dizzying.
“No!” she cried out, louder this time, her body jerking under the dual assault. The pleasure was a live wire, sparking through her core, radiating out to her fingertips. She was humiliated, exposed, her naked body bouncing in a near-empty theater for anyone to see, her husband mere feet away. But the humiliation was just fuel. It burned hotter, making the pleasure more acute, more forbidden. Fuck, it feels so good. I’m a terrible person. Don’t stop.
“You love it, you filthy slut,” he rasped, his breath hot on her neck. “You love being used like this. Your perfect tits bouncing for me.” His other hand came up to roughly grope her breast, pinching her long, sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A sharp, electric jolt of pain-pleasure shot through her, making her cry out. Mmmpfh!
The screen flickered, casting shifting blue and white light over them, illuminating Ed’s still form. The stranger’s rhythm became frenzied, animalistic. Slap-slap-squelch-slap. The sounds were obscene. Lenora could feel the pressure building, a familiar coiling deep in her belly, but it was different this time. It was bigger, sharper, fueled by danger, and a cock that touched places she didn’t know existed.
“I’m gonna make you squirt all over this fucking seat,” he promised, his voice thick with his own impending release. His fingers worked her clit faster, a relentless, perfect friction. “I’m gonna make you soak yourself and this chair and my fucking cock. You’re gonna scream when you cum, you dirty whore. Let’s see if that wakes him up.” His deep, gravelly whisper sent shivers racing down her spine, each word a brushstroke of dominance that painted her in pure, burning desire. “You’re my whore now,” he growled, his breath hot and heavy against her ear. His voice was low, possessive, dripping with raw authority. “This cunt belongs to me. Your husband will never touch it again without you thinking about how I’ve ruined it for him.”
Lenora’s body trembled, not from fear but from an overwhelming surge of need. The truth of his words struck her like a physical blow, and she hated how much they lit her up inside. She was his whore. And god help her, she loved it. Her chest heaved, her nails digging into the armrests as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. The way he claimed her, used her, was everything she didn’t know she craved.
“Say it,” he demanded, his fingers tightening on her clit, his hips slamming into hers with unrelenting force. Splat-splat-splat. “Say you’re my whore.”
“I-I’m your whore,” she gasped, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost involuntarily. It was humiliating, degrading, and yet it made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years. Her body clenched around him, desperate for more, for everything.
“Louder,” he commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding. He twisted her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pain-pleasure straight to her core. Mmmph!
“I’m your whore!” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as tears of shame and ecstasy spilled down her cheeks. The words felt like a release, a surrender to something primal and irresistible.
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through her. “That’s right, you filthy slut. You’re mine.” His pace quickened, his cock pistoning into her with brutal precision. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her, pushing her closer to the edge. She was drowning in him, in the sin and the sweat and the sheer, unadulterated pleasure.
And she never wanted it to end.
The threat was the final key. The coil snapped. Her entire world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pistoning inside her, his fingers on her clit, and the terrifying, thrilling image of her husband sleeping just beyond. A guttural, broken sound ripped from her throat, half-sob, half-scream, as her orgasm detonated. It wasn’t a wave; it was an eruption. Her body seized, back bowing, and a hot rush of fluid erupted from her, a torrential spluuuurt that soaked his pounding cock, her thighs, and the sticky fabric of the seat beneath them. Gush. Sizzle. The warmth spread everywhere, the audible proof of her debauchery.
The stranger groaned, a deep, satisfied sound, and with three final, jagged thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt. She felt the hot, pulsing splurt of his own release deep inside her, painting her walls, mixing with her own mess. Grk. Uhnngh.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant soundtrack of the movie. Lenora went completely boneless, collapsing back against him, spent and trembling. The stranger stayed inside her, softening, his grip on her still possessive.
Then, from a few seats away, Ed stirred. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, shifted his weight, and his snoring stopped.
Lenora’s blood went cold. Her eyes, wide with panic, locked onto her husband’s form. Oh god. Oh no.
The stranger felt her tense. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a dark, thrilling whisper. “Shhh. Be still. Or do you want him to see you like this? Dripping with my come?”
He didn’t pull out. Not yet. His cock, still hard and slick inside her, pulsed as he shifted his weight. His hands, rough and demanding, gripped her hips and forced her up. The sudden movement made her gasp, a sharp intake of breath that was lost under the film’s bombastic score.
“Up,” he grunted, his voice a low rumble against her neck. “On your feet. Now.”
Her legs, shaky and weak, barely supported her. The stranger’s arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as he guided her forward, bending her over the back of the seat directly in front of her husband. The worn velour scratched against her bare stomach. Her face was now inches from Ed’s, close enough to see the slack line of his mouth, the gentle flutter of his eyelids in a dream.
“Look at him,” the stranger commanded, his breath hot on her ear. His hands spread her ass cheeks, exposing her completely. “Watch your husband sleep while I finish fucking his wife’s wet little cunt.”
He drove into her. Thwack. The sound of his pelvis meeting her flesh was obscenely loud in the near-empty theater. Lenora’s eyes flew open, locked onto Ed’s peaceful, oblivious face. Thwack. Each thrust was a brutal, beautiful punishment. Her long, sensitive nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric of the seat with every forward slam, twin points of electric friction that made her toes curl in her sandals.
“You like that, don’t you?” he hissed, fucking her with short, animalistic jabs. “You love having a real cock in you. A cock that fucking fills you up.”
Yesss, her mind screamed, the word a silent plea. Her body was screaming it too, clenching around him, milking the length of him with a greed she never knew she possessed. The shame was a fire in her veins, but the pleasure was the oxygen feeding it. She was watching her husband, but she was feeling the stranger. The duality was shattering her.
His pace became frantic, erratic. “Gonna fill this married pussy up,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Gonna mark what’s mine.”
With a final, deep lunge that forced a choked mmmph! From her lips, he came. She felt the hot, wet splurt deep inside her, a claiming flood that made her own climax detonate without warning. Her cunt convulsed around his pulsing cock, a series of violent, wet squelches that echoed in her ears. A gush of her own fluid joined his, a hot rush that soaked her inner thighs and dripped down onto the floor with a soft plink, plink, plink.
For a moment, they were frozen there, a tableau of illicit passion. He, buried to the hilt. She bent over and, trembling, watched her husband sleep through her orgasm.
His cock softened gradually, still thick enough to make her feel every inch as he slowly withdrew. He held her there, letting the moment pass until her body quivered on the edge of collapse. The sensation of his release oozing out of her made her knees wobble, but his hands stayed firm on her hips, keeping her upright. His breath was ragged against her neck, hot and possessive, as he held her. She was looking at her sleeping husband.
Before she could process it, his mouth was on her ear, his tongue tracing the curve in a deliberate, filthy swirl. She shuddered, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as an unwelcome surge of heat shot through her core. “You’re my whore now,” he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. The words slithered into her like a serpent, coiling deep in her belly. “Don’t you fucking forget it. I’ll be in touch.”
In a flash, he spun her around, his lips crashing down on hers. The kiss was brutal, almost punishing, his tongue thrusting into her mouth like a claim staked. It was over as quickly as it began, leaving her breathless and disoriented. She never saw his face—just felt the lingering heat of his dominance as he melted back into the shadows of the theater.
And then he was gone.
*****
He melted back into the shadows of the theater as silently as he had appeared. One moment, he was there, the heat of his body against hers, the scent of sex and him all around her. Next, she was alone, sticky and exposed, with only the drone of the movie and her husband’s soft snoring for company.
Her hands shook as she gathered her clothes from the floor. The pink panties were damp. She stepped into them, wincing as the fabric grew wetter against her sensitive flesh. Her bra was next, then the sundress. She pulled it over her head, the soft cotton doing little to hide what had just happened, to contain the cooling mess between her legs. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth the wildness he had left there.
She sank into the seat next to Ed, her body thrumming with a strange, exhausted energy. The credits were rolling, casting moving shadows across his face. He looked so innocent. So ordinary.
Her pulse began to slow. She reached for her purse on the floor, a mindless gesture, something to do to feel normal again. She flipped it open, her fingers searching for her lipstick, anything to reclaim a piece of herself.
They found nothing. She frowned, opening the bag wider, looking inside.
Her wallet was there. Her keys. But the clear plastic window where her driver’s license always lived was empty.
A cold dread, sharper than any she had felt all night, washed over her. He hadn’t just taken her body. He had taken her name. Her address.
I’ll be in touch.
The words echoed in the silence he left behind. Her heart hammered against her ribs again. She stared at the empty slot, her breath catching in her throat.
Ed stirred beside her, his voice thick with sleep. “Movie over already?”
The End.
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