Box Office Action

It's a Sunday in September. A cool, clear evening at the end of a glorious weekend.

You've only been dating Amanda for a few weeks, but you've a good feeling about her. You just seem to click. She likes the things you like, laughs at the things you laugh at, and, best of all, is turned on by the things that turn you on.

Sitting opposite you in the restaurant, she looks amazing in a low-cut, short-sleeved top, and a thin, knee-length skirt, beneath which her legs are naked. You can't stop telling her how sexy she is, how much you fancy her, how much you want her.

She barely stops smiling throughout the meal, and from her constant touching of your arm, her stroking of your leg, it's clear the feelings are mutual.

After dinner, you walk hand-in-hand to the pub. Inside, as she stands next to you at the bar, you move your hand down from Amanda's waist to begin exploring the curve of her arse, feeling the outline of her knickers beneath her skirt.

At a table in a corner you sit with your back against the wall. She moves her chair to one side of the table so you can sit next to each other, facing each other, your legs interlocked.

Staring into her eyes, watching her reaction, you move your hand onto her knee, under her skirt. Amanda closes her eyes as you slide up the sheerness of her thigh. Opening her eyes again as you stop tantalizingly short of her panties, she smiles at you.

The thrill of foreplay in a public place, the knowledge that people might be watching, makes you hard, and you know she's wet. Downing your drink you beckon her to do the same, then grab her hand and lead her out of the pub.

Outside in the street you're not quite sure what you're doing. Or, more precisely, you know what you want to do, but not where. You look around for somewhere suitable and finally you spot it.

Across the road is an arthouse cinema, unlikely to be busy at 8.30 on a Sunday night. Even better, find a long, foreign language film and the place will probably be yours.

Pushing Amanda against the wall to kiss her, to let her feel the hardness of your cock pressing into her groin, you whisper into her ear.

'Fancy a film?'

She says nothing, but giggles with excitement, with secrecy, with anticipation, then kisses you. You grab her arm and direct her across the street.

Stepping inside, your luck's in. A two-hour-long Icelandic film starts in Screen 3 in fifteen minutes.

You buy the tickets, then scurry downstairs for Dutch courage. A double vodka each means that, no matter what, you're going for it. Amanda's face looks flushed already, as though she's begun to come just thinking about what's coming.

Finishing your drinks, you move back upstairs. She buys popcorn as a cover, though few fans of Icelandic cinema would do likewise. Still, at least it will enable you to get through the adverts and the trailers, to the point where the lights dim and the film starts and the action can begin.

Your heart is pounding. Hers is too. She can't stop giggling and you can't whisper, and a couple of the half-dozen other people in the auditorium glance at you accusingly. But they're sad, single men and you pay no attention, getting on with eating the popcorn. Sitting to Amanda's left, you try to lift the armrest that separates you. Annoyingly, it's fixed, but you realise this only adds a new dimension.

'Looks like I'll have to take you from behind then,' you breathe, and she twists accordingly in her seat, and laughs again.

You try to shush her, but you're laughing too, and your hand is already pushing the hem of her skirt up and baring her thigh.

She twists back in her seat again, but keeps her skirt raised. The tub of popcorn is now nestled between her delicious legs, so your hand rests next to it, softly stroking her skin, edging her skirt up a little further, and occasionally taking some popcorn.

With a giggling sweep of her arm, she picks up the tub and places it between your legs, allowing her to turn the tables. Now she pretends to search for popcorn whilst 'accidentally' running her hand down the wrong side of the box and onto your crotch.

Her fingers search you, play with you, trace out the bulge of your erection. Then she takes a handful of popcorn.

One of the trailers is for a sex comedy, and a clip with a vibrator makes you both laugh. No-one else in the theatre laughs much, and the private joke makes you laugh again.

But then the lights are lowered, and the film begins and the other cinema-goers are quiet. Frustratingly, the film is also rather quiet, so you finish eating the popcorn, and wait.

Placing the box on the floor, you stretch your legs out onto the seat in front, then turn to kiss Amanda. Your lips meet, then your tongues. You kiss as silently as possible, waiting for the volume to increase.

But now you've bunched her skirt up almost at her waist and her legs are fully exposed. And now she's inching your fly open and insinuating her fingers inside.

Your heart is beating so loudly the other people can probably hear it, and even though Amanda is being as careful as she can, they can surely hear her unzipping your trousers.

Your kissing barely breaks now, your mouths fixed together. Suddenly, blessedly, the film kicks into life. Seizing the moment, Amanda swiftly unbuckles your trousers and finished lowering your zipper.

You reach across and begin unbuttoning her top, only for the film to fall quiet again. You've progressed too far now, though, and all you can do is be as controlled as your arousal allows.

You leave her top partly unbuttoned as she shifts slowly round in her chair. With the armrest in the way, removing Amanda's knickers is a one-handed task, the seat creaking as she tries to lift her bum and let you pull the flimsy satin from beneath her.

Once they're as far down as her thighs, she can help you, and now she's ready, waiting. Her hand seeks out your groin, slides into your open fly, under the elastic of your boxers, onto your cock.

Her fingers clasp your manhood and she begins to play with you, slowly, teasingly slowly, as you wriggle free of your trousers.The seats creak again, your belt buckle jangles, your clothing rustles, and anyone paying the slightest attention to the back row knows exactly what's going on.

Amanda moves her legs again, and the tip of your cock encounters the crack of her arse.

If there was any doubt about what was going to happen, if you thought you'd never be able to fuck her in a cinema, it's all dispelled now. Amanda is waiting for you, waiting to feel your erection slide inside her.

Sensing the position isn't quite right, she somehow manages to lift her left leg up onto the arm rest. The wetness of her cunt is suddenly there, suddenly available, and as your shaft fills her she tries desperately to stifle a gasp.

You push yourself up, twisting your head to kiss her, to quiet her. Amanda pushes back against you. You can't believe how wet she is, how easily you move inside her, and knowing how turned on she is you can barely control yourself.

You want to fuck her hard, and fast, and loud, but as the film remains quiet, so you have to too. Together you writhe and grind, her hand reaching round your arse to hold you inside her, your hand moving down into her half-opened top.

Forcing your fingers beneath the cup of her bra you expose her breasts, explore the hardness of her nipples. And this is enough. Barely able to keep from squealing, Amanda comes.

Feeling her pussy contracting around your cock, you come too.

Noiselessly, thrillingly, thrusting deeply inside her, your cock twitches, jerks, convulses, and as you ejaculate you are temporarily lost to your surroundings. You care only about Amanda's mouth, her arse, her cunt, her tits, her clit, the feel of her body against yours.

The fear of being caught is gone, irrelevant. And what could they do now, anyway? Throw you out? It would hardly matter.

You've fucked Amanda in public. She's come in a cinema seat as you've come inside her, and as you lie there, blissfully uncomfortable, you laugh. She laughs too, before remembering where you are, and curtailing it. You kiss her deeply again, wrestling her panties back up her legs as you ease yourself from her soaking pussy.

As quietly and as completely as you can, you re-dress, but it becomes a matter of solely being dressed to leave. All buttons need not be refastened, all zips need not be reconnected, you just have to be able to tumble out of the cinema and into a taxi and home.