The movie was an adaptation of one of my favorite books, and I had been waiting months to see it. My first inkling that he had different plans came when he asked me to wear his favorite sundress and no panties. I’ll admit to being a little annoyed, until I remembered the time we had gone to one he wanted to see and I spent the entire time rubbing his cock thru his jeans and whispering filthy things in his ear.
The drive to town was spent in small talk, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. The leather seat was warm on my bare pussy, and I was already wet. I had no idea how the rest of the night was going to go, but I knew I would enjoy it.
We got our tickets, popcorn and a drink, and made our way to the screening room. I started to walk down a row in the middle, where we normally sat, but he pulled me back and guided me to the very last row. We sat down, and chatted until the lights darkened. There weren’t many people in the theatre, so I was surprised to see a man walking up to our row. He sat on my other side, and my heart started to pound. I turned to my husband to see him facing forward, smiling at the screen.
I don’t remember what the previews were for. I could barely breath, waiting to see what would happen. Of course, neither of them touched me, or even looked at me. They sat calmly enjoying the previews and the opening of the movie, laughing at all the right parts. No such luck for me. I was acutely aware of the puddle that had grown on the seat underneath me, and the throb of my heartbeat in my clit.
Finally, a hand on my thigh. My left thigh. The man I had never seen before was lightly running one finger up and down my thigh, slowly and deliberately inching my skirt higher. Then my husband’s hand, firmly grasping my right thigh and pulling it towards him. Opening me so that finger on my left could sweep just a bit higher and graze my cunt.
I jumped. Moaned a little louder than I probably should have. Neither of them looked at me. Just that sweeping finger tracing my wet lips, dipping into my folds to tease my clit. I spread my legs wider.
That seemed to be the cue he was waiting for. His fingers dove into my wet pussy, fucking me briefly before moving to my clit. Rubbing and pinching, he had me on the edge of orgasm quickly. I bit my lips to stifle my moans, and waited for that sweet release.
He pushed me right to the edge, then abruptly stopped. My body actually jerked as his hand moved to my knee, squeezed hard, then just sat there. I was gasping for air, my clit aching and pulsing.
They still weren’t looking at me. My breathing slowed, and I tried to focus on the movie. I couldn’t. They each still had a hand on my legs, and I could smell myself. I was sure everyone in the theatre could, which both frightened and excited me.
I don’t know how long it was before my husband’s hand was moving between my legs. The need built faster this time, taking my breath away. My body strained for release, even as he pulled his fingers away.
They took turns teasing me, tormenting me for the rest of the movie. I lost count of how many times I was edged, denied. By the time the credits ended I was begging in a whisper, promising anything they wanted if I could just be allowed to cum. My husband leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Careful what you ask for baby.” The nameless man to my left just laughed.