After the Movie

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The movie ends and the lights spring to life in the theatre. You casually stand and stretch, looking around at the milling crowd for some sign that we’ve been caught. You draw looks, but that’s not new. People can’t help but notice the large muscular man standing full height with his arms over his head, muscles tensed. You are like a god, blessing the now empty theatre seats in front of you. This is the reason you draw stares; some longing, some mocking, some in silent awe. The sheen of sweat on your brow and the goofy grin are overlooked as part of the norm, part of the great god’s visage. If anyone had known, discretion won out.

I was slower to rise. My legs were pleasantly weak but sitting through the rest of the film had frozen the muscles in place. I turn and start towards the aisle that will take us out into the world. I stop to let others pass by and I feel your hands on my shoulders.

I love your hands. Large and solid, like they could hold up the world, yet so gentle when they touch me. I turn my head and kiss your finger. It smells like musk, like me, and like popcorn. I can’t resist giving it just a playful lick, a quick touch with the tip of my tongue. I’m sure your face remains impassive but your hands squeeze tighter and your thumbs rub my shoulder blades, out of view of the passing crowd.

When the aisle empties, I move forward and follow the slow march to the door. Night has fallen. The air is cool. A quick breeze sweeps up from the sidewalk and touches me beneath my skirt, testing for the wetness of our games in the theatre. It finds some, and I shiver.

You reach down and drown my hand with your own. You touch me with your eyes, and I fall into them. Suddenly you stop on the sidewalk, a towering mass that forces the stream of people to part around us. With one smooth movement, you turn me towards you and pull my chin up with your fingers. Your mouth presses to mine, dry and warm, soft and sweet. I don’t close my eyes for the sheer wonder of being kissed by you. Your eyes close, but I can see them smiling. And then it’s over and we’re moving with the thinning crowds. Had I shut my eyes, I might have thought it was a dream.

We reach the car and you open my door. I climb in and feel your warm hand on the small of my back. As I sit, you step up onto the running board next to me and I barely hear you whisper, “In back.” I stare wide-eyed at you. You can’t hide the look of liquid passion that crosses your features. You don’t even try. I stay frozen in the headlights of your eyes until you lean forward, draw in a tortured breath and whisper again, “In back.”

I slip back between the front bucket seats. You follow me, pulling the door closed behind you with a slam and diving into me head first in the backseat, now dark as a theatre.

This time your mouth isn’t dry as your greedy lips devour mine. Already I can feel a flood of wetness beneath me. You kneel on the floor of the car and pull me towards you, one hand entangled in my hair holding my mouth to yours, the other squeezing the roundness of my ass, pulling me against you by the soft flesh.

I pull at the hem of your shirt to free it from the confines of your blue jeans. Once done, I slip my arms under the cloth and hold you with the entire length of them; brushing your sides from under your arms to your waist.

Your tongue assaults mine and my body responds as if it were another place that had received you. I taste the inside of your mouth and slide my thumbs over your hardening nipples. A moan escapes your throat around our dueling tongues. With both hands you reach out and grab my ass with cruel impassioned fingers and pull my wet center against the mountain of your crotch. My skirt doesn’t allow my knees to part enough and the fabric tears under your fingers. Lightening strikes me as your rough denim meets the delicate lace and flesh between my thighs.

I slide down the seat towards you, hooking my legs around your hips as you grind yourself kilis escort into me with powerful strokes. Your mouth leaves mine and I moan my disappointment until I feel your warm tongue at the hollow of my throat. The second moan is pure pleasure as you nibble at my chin and up my jaw to my ear. I feel you hold your breath as you lick the rim of my ear, working your way into every groove, then thrusting your tongue in and out of the hollow center in concert with the rhythm of your pumping hips.

I run my hands over your shoulders, gently scratching with my fingers as you slide your tongue down my face and throat, igniting the wet trails with your warm breath. You reach the neck of my blouse and edge it aside with your chin, never letting your mouth lose contact with my burning flesh.

You kiss as far down as the fabric will stretch, then lick the inside turn of my breasts with strong broad strokes. My hops are no longer passive and carve lazy circles on the seat, meeting your rocking movements. You hold me at the small of my back, high enough so you don’t interrupt my movements.

One hand pulls the hem of my blouse from the waistband of my ruined skirt and reaches below the fabric to cup my breast in your palm. You knead the soft flesh gently, like a ripe piece of fruit, then the nipple with your thumbnail. It responds in dramatic fashion, stiffening until I am almost in pain with it.

I lock my ankles behind your back and run my hands up your neck and fondle your scalp, pulling you down. You are eager to oblige me and grip my breast tight, taking the swollen tip between your lips. I gasp as I feel the strength of your tongue, and a wave of passion floods me.

I need to taste you.

Grabbing your shoulders, I try to urge you up, try to free myself from beneath you. This only increases the fury of attention you lavish on my skin. You pause only long enough to nuzzle the other breast before devouring it as well.

I reach into the collar of your shirt as far as I can and draw my nails up your back, somewhat less than gently. You throw your head back with a growl and I take full advantage of the movement to rip open your shirt, heedless of the flying buttons. I rush forward and take your skin in my mouth at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

My hips squirm back out of reach of your rocking motions. I keep you from pulling me forward by placing my hands on your chest, but it is merely a gesture. You could crush me. The thought is exciting. All that power, all that strength you hold back, trembling at my touch.

I lick slow, lazy trails across your throat, pulling your skin into my warm, wet mouth. You sit back farther as I work my way downward, sticking your chest out to meet me as I explore your salty skin. I flick the tip of my tongue over your nipples, one after the other in rapid succession until you are panting in anticipation. Then I slide one into my mouth, pulling the flesh with cool lips, tasting you with the flat of my tongue.

I sweep across to repeat the attentions on the other nipple. Your hand cups my head and tries to urge my downward. But I will not be rushed. I nip lightly at the sweet flesh in my mouth. A warning, but it too is merely a gesture. You obey anyway. You know I won’t disappoint you and you feel really good.

I sweep my tongue down your chest, swirling the hairs in warm moisture, and then cooling them with my breath. Lower, lower, I move slowly, steadily downward. I nibble across your ribcage, stopping to pull the soft furry skin above your navel into my mouth before moving down again to sink my tongue into that aperture, deep inside it until I touch the back of it and pull away with a wet sucking sound.

Your stomach heaves with your gasping and you brace yourself against the seat behind me. I circle your naval again as I undo your belt, then the button on your jeans, and slowly undo your zipper. Tooth by tooth your zipper slides kırıkkale escort down, each click a sharp sound against the background of your breathing.

I slide down off the seat and guide you into it. With firm hands I press your shoulders back into the plush upholstery, then scratch a straight line down to your legs and push your knees apart.

You’re torn between the instinctive need to let your head fall back as you give yourself to me and your rampant urge to watch me as I hover over your lap.

I stroke your turgid member through its cotton covering, slowly, firmly. I lean forward and exhale deeply into the taut fabric, feeling you jump at the rush of warm air. My fingers knead the strong flesh of your inner thighs as I lean forward and slip my mouth over your throbbing member, feeling you harden further through the wet cotton. You moans tell me you are enjoying this but your pleading eyes tell me you are greedy for more.

I bite the firm flesh of your inner thigh as I pull down your waistband with sure, quick movements. A sigh escapes you as your massive cock pours forth. Running my hands over your legs, into and out of your open jeans, I lean forward to taste the salty skin below your stomach, carefully avoiding the tower of flesh pulsing before me.

You’ve chosen to watch, so I give you a show. Arching my back, I push towards you, capturing your cock between my firm, full breasts. You reach down to squeeze my flesh tighter around you and attempt a stroke, but I pull your hands away.

I am in control here. This is my domain.

I pull you forward by your knees so you are reclined in the seat and your towering cock strains upward, as if it were trying to escape your body. Dipping my head, I reach out and cup your balls with my tongue, fluttering the hairs with my breath. I bathe you with my warm saliva, reveling in your musky smell. I kiss your scrotum and gently, so gently, pull one of the firm fruits into my mouth and suckle at it.

A low growl starts deep in your throat and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your own fingers around your towering flesh and squeezing. I release the delicate morsel from my mouth and reach up to replace your hand with my own.

Letting your wet sac nestle warmly between my breasts, I draw the flat of my tongue over your shaft from base to just below the purple head. I repeat the action, wrapping my tongue around your throbbing shaft, feeling the blood pumping beneath my lips.

Raising myself up on my knees, I hover over your cock. A liquid pearl has escaped the end and I lap it up with a purr. I kiss the head of your prick gingerly as my tongue forages the small opening, drawing out the passionate fluid seeping from you.

Slowly I drop my mouth back over your cock, squeezing the tip between my lips. Inch by inch with excruciating caution, slowly, tightly until I feel you bump the back of my throat, then up again, never changing speed, slowly pulling my mouth over your solid flesh.

A wounded sound, half growl, half whimper grows from you as you desperately fight the urge to thrash your hips.

Not yet. Not quite yet.

With a firm grip on the base of your member I lower my mouth again, pumping you in that same slow languid motion — once, twice, three times — until that tortured sound escapes you again. I release your shaft from my fists and draw away, allowing my teeth to scrape the soft heated plum.

I slide my hands under your ass and grab the waistbands of your clothing. You raise your self slightly, giving me room to pull your jeans down, out of the way.

I squeeze your ass in my hands and rake my nails across your skin as I lower my mouth to your cock again; bowing deep like a servant to a king, like one deep in prayer or worship, paying homage to the god of my deepest desire.

This time, I am neither gentle nor slow. With one quick thrust, I engulf as much of your stiff shaft as I can, kırklareli escort pumping you in and out of my mouth with heavy strokes, tracing patterns over the heated surface of your hard, warm flesh. Now you move, your hips jumping to meet me, driving your shaft to the back of my throat, warm saliva dribbling down my chin, over your balls which start to draw up tight.

I feel your stomach tensing as I suck fiendishly, noisily. You cup the back of my head in your hands and I grip the base of your cock to keep you from tearing me apart with your violent, desperate thrusts. “Oh, baby…Aw, baby…” you mutter hoarsely, barely able to draw the breath required as you pant and writhe against the dual assault of my mouth and hands.

A fractured growl builds low in your throat. Unrelenting, I take you harder, pulling tighter with my lips, until I hear the telltale catch in your breath. Gripping you firmly, I brace myself against your knees as you roar in victory and fill my mouth with your seed. You hips continue to pump as I keep still, allowing you to spend yourself completely in wave after wave of release, while I bathe your straining cock in the glistening juices.

I climb over your lap slowly and wetly posses your mouth. Another low moan rises in your throat as your tongue probes the contours of my mouth, tasting yourself in me.

You hold my waist and remove the pieces of my skirt with a final rip as I straddle your knees, my bare thighs caressing yours in the flood of my excitement. Already I can feel your cock rising against me, rushing blindly to nestle against my wet core.

With a deft move you draw my blouse up over my head. Before I can draw my arms away, you trap my wrists, twisting the fabric into restraining knots, forcing my shoulders back and my chest out.

Now we play your game. I am on top but you call all the shots.

I close my eyes and submit to the glorious sensations up and down my spine as you ravish first one breast, then the other. You pull my hair, bending me backwards to lick the sensitive skin under each breast, tasting me with broad, flat strokes.

Your cock is throbbing between my legs. I moan softly and try to inch closer, closer to your iron shaft. My body cries out for you as you tease me mercilessly. Soon I cry out with it as you brush your solid cockhead against my swollen clit. :”Oh yes…” I sigh as you repeat the movement, coating yourself in my juices, never letting your tongue off my breasts.

“Yes,” I moan, “Oh, please…”

Around a mouthful of my flesh you tease me, “Please what?” Then you leave me no breath to answer as your hands grip the round flesh of my ass and draw me closer to your turgid member, pressing me achingly. Your grip keeps my hips from reaching you.

You kiss up my throat, tracing patterns on the side of my neck and sucking gently on my earlobe. “Please what?” you whisper as I tremble. “Say it. Tell me.”

At last I can wait no longer and I whimper, “Please, Fuck me…”

With a hoarse growl you pull my hips to you and impale me with one swift movement. The length of you fills me completely. I try to rock forward, to be closer, to impossibly feel more of you, but you hold me back and begin a slow, lazy fucking motion. In and out, in and out, brushing my clit with each stroke until I’m shivering with need and lust.

“Fuck me, ” I cry. “Fuck me harder.”

You continue slowly for a moment just to torment me, but the moment proves too much for you as well. You hold me hard against your thrusting cock and pound against my thighs, each stroke deeper, harder as my sex tightens around you.

Suddenly I am awash in a flood of fire as my climax engulfs me. You tense as my pussy spasms around your member. A few quick strokes spill your warm seed deep into my body, sending another delicious wave through me.

For a moment, neither of us moves, lost in blissful haze. I move first, freeing my arms and wrapping them around your neck, dropping my head onto your shoulder. Your hands slide across my back, my hair, my ass, my shoulders. I sigh at your touch. I feel your breathing slow beneath my breasts, crushed against your chest. I don’t want to move, afraid to lose the feel of you inside me. You wrap your arms around me and I am content.

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