| most nights i don’t mind the solitude. i curl up in my window-seat three storeys above the city and listen to laughter and the squeal of brakes. i nurse a mug of hot chocolate and lean my head against the sill and imagine tightrope-walking the power lines, slinking over rooftops like an alley cat. most nights, imagining is enough. but sometimes something wails through me like the nighttime sirens and i’m shaken with an unnamed need. and that’s when i’ll paint my mouth harlot-red and smooth on silk stockings and something satin-soft and touchable, and i’ll wear a different smile in the mirror. and i’ll go into town, and i’ll have just one aim in mind: find a body to fill my need. some nights i go to a club i know. it’s dark there and filled with beautiful people looking to play, and the bar staff are discreet. the club is almost always good for an adventure. but tonight, i feel like something a little different. i always dress carefully on these nameless nights; i’m out to play a part, and play it to the hilt. tonight i’m feeling grace kelly-cool, so i slip on a short white shift dress and strappy white sandals. i pile my blonde hair atop my head and smudge my eyes with kohl. the moment i hit the street every man in my path will know i’m on the prowl, but just in case the ice-queen facade fools some, i unhook the first few buttons on my dress. now the creamy shadows of my cleavage are visible; much better. i’ve passed the adult cinema before. by day it’s shabby and barely noticeable; the city crowds quickstep past with barely a glance. by night it’s lit up: all blinking neon and bawdy, shabby tack. exactly the kind of place grace kelly would never be caught dead in. i smile and step inside. in these kinds of places the movies play back-to-back and the seats are shaped like armchairs. everybody sits several rows apart and everybody knows what everyone is else is doing in the relative seclusion of those armchairs. it’s seedy and sordid and sticky with the smell of semen. and i float coolly down the centre aisle in my milk-white dress, alone and regal, posing casually as i take my time selecting a seat. all eyes in the theatre are on me, standing front and centre, silhouetted against the gigantic cunt behind me on the movie screen. i pause a moment longer, and then slide gracefully into a seat in the sixth row, right beside a burly man in a trucker’s cap. he turns to stare at me as i settle beside him. i smile back sunnily, appraising him. he’s maybe forty; weather-tanned face, strong square features, curls escaping from his open collar. his shirtsleeves are rolled up and his forearms are golden-brown and heavily muscled, his hands long and square. hands that look capable, like their owner knows how to use them. i raise my eyes to his again and my smile widens. he can’t take his eyes off me, of course. tongue in cheek, i ask, ‘so, good movie so far?’ he stares at me. flesh-colours from the screen play across his weather-beaten face. ‘what’ve i missed?’ finally he gets the joke and barks with laughter. ‘a fuck of a lot,’ he grins. good comeback. i hold out my hand. ‘i’m grace,’ i tell him, smiling inwardly at my other little joke. ‘jim.’ he takes my hand carefully in his own. his palm is rough and dry, his grasp careful but obviously strong. on screen two women moan in concert and i hear a man across the cinema grunt. ‘what d’you do, jim?’ i’m enjoying the incongruity of this conversation. ‘builder,’ he mutters, evidently not coping as well as i am. ‘you?’ ‘me, jim?’ i savour the moment, holding his gaze. ‘i fuck.’ and i take his hand and slide it onto my inner thigh. for a moment he’s frozen. but then i feel his fingers moving, slowly, tentatively, stroking the soft white skin. i sigh and ease my legs apart to encourage him. growing bolder, he walks his fingers along my thigh, higher and higher. and then, shocked, he stalls. he’s just discovered i’m not wearing any panties. i sneak a glance at him; his square-set face is turned resolutely to the screen. quietly i slip a few more of my buttons from their loops. i reach over for his other hand and put it on my naked breast. ‘don’t be shy, jim,’ i murmur. he needs no further invitation. grasping my waist, he lifts me onto his lap. my dress is rucked up around my hips and falling off my shoulders, and if i’m not mistaken, several men have crept closer, down from the shadowy back rows of the theatre. they know there’s going to be a live show tonight. jim hooks his thick wrists under the hem of my skirt and slides his hands up my thighs, hissing through his teeth as he exposes me inch by inch. i tilt my hips a little to give him the best possible view, arching my back and tossing my head. the men are definitely closer now. jim scrapes off his cap, dropping it on the floor, and buries his face against my breasts. i feel long, thick fingers dip into me and shiver in delight. ‘you’re so wet,’ he growls appreciatively, twisting his fingers deeper. i moan and he grins. ‘you like that?’ in answer i pull my dress over my head and throw it to the floor beside jim’s cap. i’m naked save my shoes in a theatre full of dirty old men. on screen a woman screams and i hear a collective sigh of excitement running through the theatre. by now there are several men seated in the row behind us. one takes his place directly behind jim, so i’m facing him. our eyes meet and i give him silent permission to watch. i love an audience. jim pushes a second finger into my cunt and then a third. god, it’s good; i’m squirming. i push my breast into his mouth and he fastens his teeth round my nipple. i jerk and can’t help crying out. and it’s as though the sound i make releases the men from some kind of spell. there’s no pretense now; every single man gets up from his seat and gathers in the rows behind jim and me. it’s time to give them a good show. slipping off jim’s knee, i lead him into the aisle. i get down on my hands and knees and spread my legs, and i look back over my shoulder at jim and i say, ‘do you want to fuck my ass?’ if i wasn’t so hot i’d laugh at the shock on his face. but he recovers quickly, dropping to his knees behind me and unbuckling his belt. he lays a hand on my ass, fingers sliding into my cleft, exploring. i can’t help pushing against his hand. to my surprise he pulls his hand away. ‘don’t move,’ he admonishes. startled, i look around at him, and he slaps my ass sharply. ‘i said don’t move, little slut,’ he warns. and that‘s when i really get hot, because this guy knows how to play my game. his fingers dip into my cunt again, spreading my liquid over my anus. he’s got one hand between my legs and the other gripping my left breast hard, so hard i’m biting my lip. his thumb rubs over my clitoris and i scream, unable to stop my hips bucking. i hear the jingle of jim’s belt and then i feel his cock against me, thick and hot and heavy. he’s holding my breast and my hip so hard i can’t move and i’m longing to thrust back against him. and then i feel his thick cock invading me, pushing through my resistance, filling me so completely that i scream again and push my face into that filthy, come-stained carpet. ‘god, you’re so tight,’ he groans as he slides in to the hilt. our audience is groaning audibly now. i sense men touching themselves all around me, no longer trying to hide their arousal. and it’s all because of me. nothing gets me hotter than knowing every man in the room wants to fuck me. jim’s moving faster now, thrusting deeper into my tight little asshole, his fingers clutching my breast so tightly i know i’m going to be in pain for days, but i don’t care. my ass is burning and my cunt is liquid and my whole body’s electric, and then jim pinches my clitoris between forefinger and thumb and a bolt of pure fire shoots through me and i come hard, shaking and screaming, just as jim shoots his load into my ass and collapses on top of me. and all around us i hear a symphony of men groaning and sighing in climax. as soon as i can move i squirm out from beneath him. jim and the other men haven’t moved; they know this is my spell they’re under. i pick up my crumpled, discarded linen dress and slip it over my head. turning to smile down at jim, i strike a pose with one hip cocked. ‘thanks for giving me what i needed,‘ i tell him, and then i glance round at the rest of them. ‘hope you liked the show.’ then i turn on my heel and stalk out of the cinema and into their fantasies forever. |
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