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“We drove to the city. It was a special kind of film in the old-fashioned theater. We were going to see some of the most famous American directors on stage together answering questions. I felt this was a promising experience. Of course, she came along too. I was 18. She was 15. At this point, she really liked me, and I could tell easily from the way she looked at me. I love it when girls make it so obvious that they like you, because you know there’s a desire for you to dominate them. She had her reading glasses on and I thought that made her look much more sexier. She and I sat in the back seat during the course of the ride. I brought my camera with me and I still had room to take photos, since I was at my prom date’s birthday party the day before. There was a strange desire for me to let her know that she wasn’t the only girl, and that she had competition. She was going to discover it anyway, since she’d never seen my camera up to that point and was curious.
I looked as she quickly went through my photos. When she skipped over a flirty photo of me, she immediately went back to look at it again. Then she’d go ahead to see a picture of her and me together, and she immediately looks up and glares at me with a smile. I replied, trying to look innocent with a smirk. We then parked and went to a burrito place to eat, with her just playing violent footsies with me under the desk. Afterwards though, she kept her distance from me while going to the theater, but not without me kicking her in the rear a few times. She sometimes rejected my advances of touch by making me let go of my hold around her waist. We arrived in the theater and there was a big crowd. We found a row of empty seats for us and I was going to sit away from her until she called out to me to sit on her right. The lights were turning off and the people were being prompted to sit down. The screen came up and I thought that this whole presented film commemorating cinema itself was going to take a while. Suddenly, in the dark, under the arm rest between us, we started holding hands. I can’t remember how we even started. We held each other’s hand tightly, enough that we started to sweat slightly between our hands. I started rubbing her fingers, making her let go of my hand and I moved in a fluid style to run my fingers through hers as if we were in perfect physical alignment. I went up and down all five fingers with my own five to create some kind of stimulus for touch, and I could tell she enjoyed it since she was going along with it. We’d stop for a minute or two and I’d lay my arm back on top of the arm rest. She slowly brings up her hand and flicks my hand with a swift, come-hither touch of her finger for me to come down and hold her hand again. My heart rushed along this whole period, because I didn’t know what was going to happen next. We would repeat this process over the course of the film. What was coming next though, would take me by surprise. We held hands again and I made a mistake on making her do the same finger touching I did to her, I say that as a mistake because she wasn’t so good at it. She took my hand and then put it on her leg instead. I rubbed and massaged her leg incessantly, while her hand was on top of mine rubbing my hand. Over the course of ten minutes, she’d move my closer and closer to the center. At this point, my heart was racing and I loved the thought if she were to put my hand on her clit. I rubbed her legs and the inner part of her legs leading up to her clit, until she moved my hand right over it. She’d push my hand down on her clit harder and harder. So I decided to take my index and middle finger together and rub slowly up and down, as she’d press my hand down even harder. We would continue this for the next ten minutes. She’d keep pushing her hand down on mine and I’d continue fondling her in the dark. The fact that no one could see us gave me a rush, that we were psychologically intertwined and alone in a public arena. She pushed my hand away after a while. She got up and left down the hall. I wondered to myself whether if I should follow her or not, but the others would’ve gotten suspicious, so I decided not to move. She’d gotten wet, and I was sure she went to the bathroom to check her panties. If I’d left, I’m sure we would’ve made out like two animals in the sun in an absolute heartbeat. She probably cried too. I had no idea at this point what she was thinking, but those were my nebulous assumptions. The movie ended, the lights came back on. Nobody saw us. The interview ended and she and I ended up in the alleyway in our coats and hoods sitting down next to each other in silence, on the outskirts of the theater where all the adults were exiting. We watched the crowds like ghostly observers pass by at 10:30 at night in the urban city on a school night. I felt wild to a certain extent thinking about this, however she– she didn’t say a word for the rest of the night, and kept her distance from me. We were left alone in the car when we came home at about twelve. I stroked her hair gently for her to wake up when we were alone in the car and parked in the driveway. I stroked her hair two more times only to have her push my hand away. I got out of the car to go inside the house and get a few photos printed, not caring about her unresponsiveness. I’d say good night to everyone else and leave, not really hungering for any form of sleep, but hungering for sex instead. I was in shock and awe that night for our kinky fantasy in the dark to occur. Our naughty interlude on that night could never be told to the world. The silence about that night wouldn’t be broken until months later.” |
Sexual Happenstance.
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