You first met him in your psych 201 class even though he was a senior and you were only a sophomore. He sat next to you the very first day and immediately started flirting. You liked it and you liked him.
He was just your type. Strong, tall, athletic. A surfer build and tan skin. Cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. Smitten, you couldn’t get enough. For him it seemed like a game, every day he’d flirt and tease you, and every day he’d leave without your phone number or without asking you out.
You started wearing things to attract his attention. Tight sweaters with no bra. Short skirts and no panties. You’d spend time getting ready just for class, doing your hair and makeup to perfection.
One day the classroom was chilly. Your nipples poked out of your thin blue sweater. Sitting next to him didn’t help either. Your thin waist and long dark hair framed your B cups perfectly. You wanted him to notice and he did. He asked for your number. You gave it to him.
Two days later he texted and asked you out to dinner.
He fucked you that night. Less than an hour after you finished your chocolate cake.
You’d never been fucked like that before. After he was done, all the rest just seemed like little boys. The guys that fucked you in high school didn’t compare. Last year’s boyfriend seemed lost.
No, you’d never been fucked quite like that. He was such a man. So masculine. So in control. He didn’t have to ask. He took. He bent you over and had his way with you. He pumped you over the back of the couch like a rag doll. His cock seemed so hard and thick sliding in and out of you. You felt so full.
You called out his name as he fucked you. You begged for more. You’d never done that before. You never needed to. But with him you did.
He made you cum. And then he made you cum again. When he left you still wanted more. You begged him to stay, to fuck you again.
You felt like a little girl begging for a toy. He seemed like such a man.
The weekend passed. No phone call. No texts. You didn’t know what to think. You’d thought about him all weekend. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your head. Sunday you came twice, but it was only you touching yourself thinking about him. It didn’t compare to the real thing.
In class on Monday he practically ignored you. You felt used, like such a slut. Still, it didn’t matter, you wanted him. You wanted fucked like that again.
You texted him and told him just that. You begged him to fuck you. He replied with a smiley face. You sent him a picture of your tits, your pussy, your entire naked body. You wanted more. You wanted him so badly, to feel his big hard cock inside you again.
For a week he ignored you. No texts and barely a word in class.
Friday you wore a low cut top to show off your cleavage and short black shirt. You didn’t bother with any panties. You wanted him to see.
Walking to class you felt like such a slut, and you were, and you knew it. Still you didn’t care. The thought of being filled by his hot throbbing cock consumed you.
He noticed almost right away. He flirted with you again. You flirted back. Halfway through class you caught him looking at you, at your cleavage. You smiled inside. You felt your pussy tingle. You slipped your skirt up just a bit to tease him. You let him see. He looked. He stared. You got wet imagining what he would do to you.
Fifteen minutes after class he texted you. He asked you to a movie later that night. Your body tingled as you read it. You didn’t care about the movie you just cared about getting fucked.
To the movies, you wore a different outfit. A button down blouse and a playful gray skirt, high heels, and black lace panties. You didn’t want him to think you were too easy, even though you were.
At the theater he was flirtatious, just like in class. You liked it and flirted back. You touched him. His arms. His hands. His chest. You couldn’t help it. It turned you on thinking about what you knew would come later.
You sat with him in the back corner of the theater in an empty row. The theater was barely half full. Being there with him excited you. Your skin tingled and your mind raced. The movie didn’t matter.
During the trailers, he put his hand on your leg, moving it slowly up and down. You did the same to him. You looked over to see if he was hard. You wanted him to be, to see his hard cock bulging underneath his tight pants.
He looked at you. He knew you were looking. He didn’t say a word as his hand slipped toward your knee and pushed up your skirt. You didn’t resist. You wanted it too bad. You were a slut. That couldn’t be helped.
You watched as his hand slowly slid underneath your skirt. Your pussy was throbbing, even your panties were already wet. His fingers easily pushed aside the black lace. You spread your legs to make it easier.
All your muscles tensed when he first touched your clit. Your hips thrust forward, your pussy aching to be touched. A finger slipped inside you. It went in easily with you so slick and so wet. You whimpered audibly as he slid in deeper, overwhelmed by the sensation.
You whimpered again as he moved his finger around inside. He looked at you directly. You looked right back. He brought the index finger of his other hand to his lips. He whispered “sshhh” to calm you down.
You let out a breath to trie and relax. His finger slid in and then out again. You jumped. You fought the urge to react. To whimper. To moan. Two fingers now played with your clit. You leaned over and bit down on his shoulder to calm yourself.
His two fingers slipped inside you. You felt your pussy clench around then. Your pussy ached. You could feel the pleasure build inside you. It had barely been two minutes, but you wanted to cum. You wanted to cum so badly. You were on the edge with your hips fucking his fingers trying to push you over.
You whispered “please, please” in his ear. He smiled and slid his fingers in again. Please you begged.
Suddenly he stopped just as you were about to cum, pulling his fingers out, leaving you there, your body shaking, quivering for more. You stared at him, your eyes desperate, clearly needing more.
He took your hand and moved it to his to cock. You felt his hardness, his size. Your mind and your body ached for more. You watched in silence as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.
You stared hungrily. Studying it, the shaft, the head, the veins. You marveled at his size. How masculine he seemed. You body ached to touch it, to feel its smooth hardness in your hand.
He let you look. He let you admire it. His curved hardness pointing toward the ceiling. He guided your hand to him, closing your fingers around his cock. He began to slide your hand up and down his length.
Soon you took over yourself. The feeling was overwhelming. You felt his cock throbbing in your hand. The skin felt so soft and smooth, yet his shaft is so hard.
His eyes went shut and his mouth hung open as you stroked him. You found yourself lost in the moment, the overwhelming eroticism of it all. You stared at his cock and you hand moving up and down, wrapped around it.
He opened his eyes and leaned forward. As he did, he looked down the aisle and across into the theater. Out of nowhere another man approaches. You yanked your hand away from him, acting as innocent as could be. Still the man approaching has a knowing smile.
Your heart thumped in your chest, your mind raced at a thousand miles an hour. You’ve been caught with a cock in your hand and you had no idea what to do. Images flash in your mind of you being arrested, booked, having to explain to others what happened, what you were doing. The thought frightened and embarrassed you.
You freeze as the man continues to approach. His smile never wavers. He nears but doesn’t say a word. Instead he sits in the empty seat next to you. The world seems to stop as he does. Fear washes over you. Still you stay. There is nothing else you can do.
What is only seconds seems like an hour. The man turns and looks at you. His eyes flash. He’s young, in his early twenties just like your date. He’s a few inches shorter, but more muscular, more athletic. His eyes seem dark in the dim theater, his short hair darker. He smiles as he looks at you, your breasts, your guilty hand.
He leans forward and smiles at your date. You turn as he does.
“This is Joe,” your date says, “he’s a friend of mine.”
You’re shaking now. You’re not sure if it’s relief or terror that’s affecting you.
Frozen, you watch as your date pushes his shirt aside. His cock still exposed. Still rock hard. He gently takes your hand, and just as before closes your fingers around his hard shaft and moves it up and down.
You can’t resist. The feeling of his hard cock is too good. Up and down you move, lost in the feeling. Joe leans forward to watch. He seems mesmerized by your hand and the way it moves. You feel like a slut letting him watch, but you don’t care. All you want is the feeling of his hard cock in your hand.
A few seconds pass and Joe leans back in his seat as if to relax. Slowly your date leans forward. You stop moving for an instant, confused by what is happening. In that moment the whole world appears to pause.
As it does, your date takes your other hand and moves it toward Joe. You don’t stop him, you don’t resist. You’re not sure if you can. He lets go as he places it in Joe’s lap. He leans forward to watch what you do.
Your hand feels Joe’s hardness underneath his pants. It feels so forbidden, so alluring. You can’t help yourself. Your heart pounds as your hand squeezes around him. Your pussy tingles as you do, your whole body follows.
His cock feels huge. His body jumps as you squeeze it. Your run your hand along its outline. It seems so long, so thick. Your date watches as you do.
Joe opens his eyes and looks toward you, then down at your hand pressed against his cock. He takes a breath and leans back. His hands slip down to his zipper. Slowly and deliberately he unzips it. Your eyes are fixated on the zipper as he does.
Slowly he slips his cock out of his pants. It almost seems to move in the dim light. It seems so erotic to you. So forbidden. So huge.
Your body trembles at the thought of touching it. You lust after it. Your lips go tight as you imagine it in your mouth. Your pussy aches at the thought of it inside you.
Joe takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. He looks directly into your eyes. Almost by instinct you hand begins to stroke it. Joe doesn’t react but instead continues staring directly at you.
The excitement washes through your body. Your heart is beating so fast, your skin tingles. Just then your date whispers something in your ear. You’re too overwhelmed to listen or to understand.
Taking your free hand, he moves it back between his legs, closing your fingers around his hard cock once again. A million thoughts run through your mind as you begin to touch him.
Now you’re stroking two cocks, one in either hand, in the back of a dimly lit movie theater. You think of what a slut you are but the feeling quickly passes. You are a slut and you know it. You can’t help it. Your mind is overwhelmed with lust, with the pure adrenaline fueled by a cock in both of your hands.
You’ve never imagined yourself like this, not in a million years, but now here you are and you can’t get enough. The cocks feel so good in your hands, your mind races in a thousand directions. You question what you are doing and why. But you don’t care. All you know is you can’t stop.
The men lean back in their seats. You do as well, with both hands stroking in unison. You watch one direction, then the other, back and forth again and again, taking it all in.
Your date’s eyes are closed tightly, his mouth is hanging open, and a pained look appears across his face. It turns you on to see him like this, to affect him this way, knowing it is you alone that are responsible for his reaction.
Joe looks down at your hand, captivated by your rhythm and the way your hand looks travelling up and down his thick cock. He looks toward you as you continue stroking. You can see his face tighten as the pleasure starts to build.
The desire is overwhelming. You can’t get enough.
You hear your date whimper as your strokes continue. He tries to hold back but can’t. With the sound Joe leans forward and smiles.
You stroke them both faster now, more urgently. Your date’s body shifts in his seat. He struggles with the pleasure, gritting his teeth, gripping the arm rest.
Your strokes continue. Seeing him this way turns you on. You want to make him cum. You want to see it.
Soon it’s too much and his body freezes in his seat, his back arches as his eyes roll back in his head.
Just then you see the cum pouring out. It feels so hot and so sticky as it shoots out in bursts, time after time, oozing out of his cock and down onto your hand. You keep stroking as he cums, your eyes fixed on his cock.
It seems so raw to see him like that, his dick spent, his cum all over your hand. You keep stroking even as his cock turns flaccid.
All the while you keep stroking Joe. More out of instinct than anything else.
Your date opens his eyes and looks down at his soft cock and your cum filled hand. A sense of defeat seems to cover his face. With his cock still in your hand, Joe looks across your body and smiles.
Your date looks away from Joe and focuses on the business at hand. Stoically and without a word, he puts his cock away and zips up his pants. And in an instant he is gone. He gets up from his seat, and shuffles past you both and out of the theater.
You end up confused, unsure what to think. You turn to Joe. He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock once again. You oblige as he looks directly at you.
Your face betrays you. You can’t help but wonder just wanted happened, so much so that you don’t even have to ask.
“He lost,” Joe says.
You look at him with bewilderment.
“Now I get to fuck you,” he says as his hands slip down beneath your legs.
“Now I get to finish you off.”
And with that his cock disappears in his pants.
He takes your hand as he stands up knowing you will follow.