Leigh's Awakening, Vol 2 - Now Showin' at the Movies
Copyright© 2022 by TopherLovesLeigh
Chapter 3
True Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Leigh shows off at a XXX theater.
Caution: This True Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual True Story Wife Watching Anal Sex Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Porn Theatre
After I had taken a quick shower, Leigh sent me down to the lobby bar, insisting she wanted her outfit to be a surprise. I grumbled good-naturedly but obeyed, curiosity gnawing at me as I slipped into a seat toward the back of the lounge. I ordered a gin and tonic, figuring I would nurse it until she appeared.
Two and a half gin and tonics later, I looked at my watch and realized nearly an hour and a half had passed. Just as I was considering going back upstairs to check on her, the atmosphere in the bar shifted. Conversations stuttered to silence, glasses hung frozen midair. Every man in the room was staring toward the entrance with slack-jawed awe.
When I turned to follow their gaze, my own breath caught.
Leigh stood framed in the doorway, and for a moment she looked less like a woman and more like a vision conjured out of neon light and smoke. She could have walked straight out of an eighty’s music video ... sleek, sultry, unapologetically provocative. Her dress was hot pink, belted snugly at the waist, the front buttoned in a way that teased at what it barely concealed. The sheer fabric left nothing to the imagination: the faintest motion of her hips made it easy to see the black lingerie beneath ... black stockings held up by a garter belt that encased her shapely legs, the delicate lace of her skimpy bra and panties framed curves meant to tease.
Her shiny black hair was swept up into a tight bun, elegant and controlled, but on her head she wore a pillbox hat straight from Jackie O’s closet, a thin lace veil falling just low enough to shadow her eyes with mystery. Fingerless lace gloves clung to her hands, delicate yet suggestive, as though every gesture she made was designed to seduce.
She had flawlessly applied her makeup; every detail sharpened with intention. Green eyes glimmered like cut gemstones beneath the veil, framed with dark lashes that dared you to come closer. Bright red lipstick transformed her mouth into a weapon ... plump, lush, innocent at first glance but curved with unmistakable mischief. She looked like a Nagel print brought to life ... icy elegance fused with raw erotic energy.
I was on my feet before I realized I had moved, sliding through the crowd of transfixed men to reach her. As I guided her toward the stool beside mine, I could feel the heat of every gaze that followed her ... lust from the men, envy from the women, all of them reduced to background noise compared to the woman at my side.
Leigh ordered a shot of tequila, her voice smooth, almost playful. She rarely touched hard liquor, but when she did, it was a signal ... she was ready to turn the night inside out. The bartender set the shot in front of her with a shaker of salt and a slice of lime. Leigh glanced at her gloved hands, realizing she had nowhere to sprinkle the salt. For a moment she looked puzzled ... then her eyes flicked to mine, sparking with sudden wickedness.
Before I could react, she seized my hand, lifted it to her lips, and dragged her tongue slowly across my palm. The hot, wet stroke made my pulse hammer. She sprinkled salt onto the trail of saliva, then, without hesitation, bent and licked it away the salt in one smooth motion. My breath hitched as she tipped the glass back, swallowing the tequila in a single swallow, then bit down on the lime wedge. She sucked it dry, lips pursed and glistening, before pulling the rind from her mouth with a sharp smile.
The bar was silent again. Dozens of eyes had watched her every move, but her gaze never left mine.
“Are you done with that drink?” she asked lightly, flicking her eyes at the half-empty glass in my hand. “Because I’m starving, and I want something to eat.”
Leaning in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, letting my voice drop low enough for only her to hear. I whispered, “Are you sure you don’t want to just go upstairs and fuck each other senseless?”
She turned toward me slowly, the corner of her mouth curling into the familiar, dangerous smile that always undid me. “Later,” she whispered, her tone thick with promise. “First, I want to show off my new outfit.”
Groaning, half in frustration, half in awe, I set my glass down anyway, and threw some bills on the counter. Leigh rose gracefully, slipping her arm through mine, and together we walked toward the door. Just as it had when she entered, the room fell into utter silence, every pair of eyes glued to her with hunger as she swept past.
For dinner, we chose a local steakhouse, one of those rough-hewn Texas joints where the scent of mesquite smoke clung to the wood-paneled walls and the crowd was heavy with cowboy boots, well-worn denim, and sweat-stained Stetsons. It was a place where men ordered whiskey neat and women wore rhinestones like armor.
The moment Leigh stepped through the door, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations faltered, replaced by low whistles and brazen catcalls that followed her like a second skin. She didn’t flinch ... she reveled in it, shoulders back, lips parted in the faintest suggestion of a smirk.
Even the hostess couldn’t disguise her disdain, delivering a frosty glare at Leigh before muttering, “George will be your waiter,” and vanishing toward the front.
At the table, Leigh seemed determined to command the room. The outfit she had chosen left little work to the imagination, but she piled on theatrics anyway ... leaning forward too far, tugging her hem into place with deliberate slowness, arching her back when she laughed so that her chest thrust out like an unspoken dare. Every few minutes she’d excuse herself to the ladies’ room, each time taking a different, meandering path through the crowded restaurant. She swayed deliberately, her hips rolling with exaggerated precision, her ass wiggling as though she knew exactly how many eyes were locked on her.
From behind, Leigh was an intoxicating sight. Her waist was impossibly small, cinched tight, but from there her body flared into the kind of hips and ass that stopped conversations. Her cheeks were round, firm, and perfectly separated, the motion of her walk setting them into a hypnotic rhythm. It was enough to make even hardened ranch hands sit straighter in their seats.
On her last return from the restroom, her cheeks flushed and her expression gleaming with wicked delight, she leaned close to me. “You’ll never guess,” she whispered. “Some big, fat cowboy grabbed me, pulled me onto his lap, and squeezed my tits like he was kneading bread dough.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “Do you want me to say something to him?”
Leigh only smirked, brushing it off with a laugh. “Nah. I’ve been begging for attention all night with the way I’ve been carrying on. Guess I finally got what I asked for.” Her green eyes glinted with shameless amusement.
I stared at her, caught between shock and desire. “You’re serious?”
“Oh, honey,” she purred, licking her lips as though savoring the memory, “He was harmless. The moment I tried to get up, he let me go.”
Harmless or not, I’d had enough of the circus. I flagged George down, settled the check, and ushered Leigh out before the cowboy decided to test his luck again.
Once inside the car, Leigh stretched languidly in the passenger seat, her skirt riding higher on her thighs. I turned to her, still reeling from the evening, and asked, “So where to now? Drinking, dancing, parking? Your call.”
That mischievous smile returned, curling at the edges of her lips, promising chaos. “I want to go to that X-Rated theater,” she said without hesitation.
For a moment I could only stare at her, stunned. I had thought I was past the point of being surprised by Leigh. But I was wrong. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time she shocked me that night.
We strode into the theater lobby, immediately assaulted by the pungent aroma of popcorn mingled with the acrid scent of urine. I quickly surveyed the area, my eyes landing on a red-carpeted stairway leading upwards, a sign above it proclaiming, “Balcony is Reserved for Couples Only!” I started towards the stairs, eager to claim our private space, but Leigh stopped me.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, indicating the direction of the restrooms with a tilt of her head.
“What were you doing all those times you went in the restaurant?” I asked sarcastically, a smirk playing on my lips.
She giggled and headed for the ladies’ room. “I’ll be waiting for you over there,” I said, pointing to where the stairs to the balcony began. Leigh acknowledged me with a wave of her hand as she sauntered away.
I walked over to the stairs, where an usher stood, his presence clearly intended to enforce the “couples only” rule. As I approached him, I asked, “How many couples are up there?”
“One or two,” he replied, his voice monotone.
“How many guys are in the main theater?” I probed further, trying to gauge the potential audience for Leigh’s performance.
The usher looked over his shoulder, thinking for a moment. “Eight or nine,” he finally said.
I had no idea what Leigh had planned, but if she wanted an audience, I was going to give her one. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” I said, my voice low and conspiratorial.
The usher looked at me, seeming intrigued. “See, my girlfriend is in the mood to show off, and I was wanting to make sure she has an audience. Once we go up, do you think you could grab a couple of those guys in the main theater and send them up to the balcony to watch?”
The usher was clearly interested by my request, but he seemed hesitant, wanting to enforce the theater rules. He stated firmly “That’s not allowed!”.
I pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my pocket and slipped it into his hand. Just then, his head swiveled towards the restrooms, and his jaw dropped as he got his first view of Leigh. I followed his gaze, and my jaw followed suit.
Leigh had made some significant “adjustments to her dress while in the ladies’ room. Her attire was basically the same, with two major exceptions. She had undone every button on her dress except the one at her waist. The top of her dress was opened to below her navel, and the bottom was split in the front to above her pelvis.
What was more remarkable was that Leigh had shed her bra and panties, leaving her nude under her dress. The sheer material did nothing to hide the nakedness of her body, and her erect nipples were clearly visible. The forward motion of her walk had caused the two sides of the bottom of her dress to flow behind her at the hips, uncovering the trimmed strip of jet-black hair on her pubic mound.
Leigh sauntered up to me and looped her arm through mine, whispering, “Did you miss me, Honey?”
As I started to lead Leigh up the stairs, the usher said, “I’ll take care of that thing for you.”
Leigh asked, “What was he talking about?”
“I made some arrangements to increase the size of your audience,” I said, finally having a chance to give Leigh a mischievous smile for once.
“What do you mean, increase the size of my audience?” she asked, her eyes widening with curiosity.
“You’ll see,” I said, my smile growing wider.
We slipped through the heavy door at the top of the stairs, pausing just inside as the gloom swallowed us. The only light came from the glow of the projector, flickering shadows across the smoky air. My eyes adjusted slowly, shapes resolving into the outline of a single couple in the far corner of the balcony. Even in the dimness, their rhythm was unmistakable ... the woman knelt between her man’s legs, her head bobbing in a steady motion that told the story without need for detail.
Leigh’s fingers tightened around my arm, her lips curving into a sly grin as if she took the sight as a challenge.
I guided her down the aisle to the front row of the balcony, dead center. The seats were old and tacky with years of use, but their position was perfect, close enough to the screen to glow in its light, and open enough that anyone glancing up from below would have no trouble seeing her.
We sat, the railing in front of us little more than a half-hearted barrier. The movie blared on, but my attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on Leigh ... the way her dress parted when she crossed her legs, the flash of bare skin that left nothing to the imagination.
I leaned back, pretending at nonchalance, and let my hand fall into her lap. The heat of her body seeped through the thin fabric, and when she shifted slightly, it was clear she wanted me there. She tilted her head toward me, her breath warm against my ear.
“Everyone can see me from here,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of tease and dare.
And that, of course, was exactly the point.
On the screen, Annette Haven was on her knees, her mouth working hungrily on a large cock, the exaggerated wet sounds of her lips smacking echoing through the theater’s speakers. The raw, unpolished audio filled the room with every sloppy, eager noise, and it seemed to magnify the pulse of Leigh’s arousal.
Letting my hand drift lower, I brushed along the thin fabric that barely covered her clit. Leigh stiffened, then melted against my touch, her thighs parting ever so slightly as I traced slow, teasing circles over her pussy. Her breath quickened, shallow and uneven, each rise and fall of her chest proof of how much the moment was taking hold of her.
Just as she began to press into my hand, a shuffle of feet and the murmur of low voices broke through the drone of the film. I glanced over my shoulder and felt my stomach tighten. One by one, men were filing into the balcony, more than a dozen ... slipping into the seats behind us. Their faces were already fixed on Leigh, their stares heavy with hunger.
I turned back to her, catching her gaze in the dim glow of the screen. With the faintest tilt of my head toward the rows behind us, I whispered, “Looks like you’ve got an audience. If you’re going to put on a show ... it’s now or never.”
Leigh’s lips parted in a wicked smile. Slowly, she pivoted in her seat, turning to face the men who had gathered. Their eyes locked on her, silent and riveted. The grin on her face widened, playful and daring.
She rose with slow, deliberate grace, her nearly six-foot height magnified by the four-inch heels that clicked softly against the worn floor. Towering and radiant, she seemed less a woman than an Amazonian goddess brought to life, commanding the gaze of every eye in the room. The flicker of the projector washed over her, light and shadow chasing across the lines of her body as though the film itself longed to caress her curves.
For one suspended moment, she was pure silhouette ... an elegant hourglass traced in darkness and pale silver glow. Each breath she drew gave her form a subtle, mesmerizing motion, the rise of her chest and the taper of her waist shifting within the phantom light of the screen. It was a vision both unreal and undeniable, as if the theater had transformed into her private stage.
And then came the sudden beam of a flashlight, cutting across her body with stark, blinding brilliance. The usher’s light caught every line, every exposed inch, leaving Leigh frozen in its glare like a performer under a spotlight ... exactly where she wanted to be.
I could tell from her movements that Leigh was hot!