The Movies ... with a Stranger

The popcorn smelled like fake butter and regret. Lenora slumped in the stiff theater seat, nursing the last dregs of her wine buzz and the fresh irritation of being right. On screen, some CGI robot punched another CGI robot. Crunch. Slam. Twenty minutes in, and from her left came the familiar, soft puff-puff-puff of Ed’s snoring.

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. The stretch 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 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 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 prick.” 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.