Slipping My Hand In her Panties

The film was mediocre but with eye candy for us both. We watched the predictable story, the toned male lead, his full-chested, opened-bloused female counterpart as they lurched their way through the dialogue to the inevitable bedroom scene forty minutes into the film.

Our hands were together, a sweet show of affection, both of us wanting more.

The cinema was almost empty, a late night showing that we always chose to avoid the crowds, the rustling popcorn and slurping soft drinks.

I disengaged from her grasp and slip my hand over her jeans, circling round and round until my hand slipped between the denim valley of her thighs. I could feel the heat down there. She squooze her legs together and pushed her crotch forward a little. When I looked away from the screen and at her she was smiling at me.

Her hand found its way to the bulge in my jeans. She rubbed for a while, knowing it was driving me wild, then stopped. Her hand was withdrawn. She shuffled in her seat and I heard the pop of a button, the sound of a zip being drawn down slowly. The film’s soundtrack was quiet and she must have been conscious of this.

The glow from the screen was enough for me to see the open V of her jeans. She wiggled slightly, pulling them down just enough to allow me in. We both slouched in our seats and breathed heavy breaths while I gingerly slid my hand across the narrow strip of exposed tummy to the waistband of her panties.

She raised her hips, there was no need as I could easily insinuate my hand inside, it was more of an eager greeting. It was hot in there, the cotton of her briefs trapping the heat and moisture that had built up. My hand had displaced a rich aroma of pussy, the scent filled my nostrils and encouraged me to delve into the furrow of her labia.

Her jeans prevented her legs spreading too wide, but she tried, stretching the seam at the crotch and allowing my fingers to traverse the full length of her pussy’s outer folds from clitoris to burning hot hole. Her pubic hair was trimmed but substantial, now soaked with her juices and sticking to her skin.

I shuffled uncomfortably, the erection against my leg bent awkwardly and needed release. She nodded towards my cock, obviously recognising my discomfort. I withdrew my hand and unfastened my trousers. The moment the waistband was loose her hand slid inside. She found my cock and with a little dextrous manipulation straightened it out. It lay against my skin poking above the waistband of my trousers.

Her fingers encircled my cock and while I reapplied myself to rubbing her clit she stroked me, lubricated by a copious river of precum.

We wanted to make each other cum but knew the risk of discovery was too great so spent the rest of the film filling the cinema with the scent of our sexual juices. As the credits rolled and the lights came up we withdrew our hands and tasted our fingers. The taste of her was rich and animal, the knowledge of what I was licking from my fingers so decadent it made me grin from ear to ear.

I watched her sample me from her fingers. “I can taste your cum. You were so close, oozing cum from your cock. I should have taken you all the way.”

I fixed her with a stare, my intent clear and said two words “Outside. Now.” And she gladly obeyed.