Cinema

The room was larger than the usual motel room. There was a sofa, chair, small desk with another chair and a king sized bed that dominated the room. A bathroom was tucked into a corner next to the door.

Keith let the door close, turned on the lights and walked to the end of the room to the window. He started to close the drapes, I assumed for privacy.

"Leave then open," I said. We were on the third floor so someone seeing us was a low probability although I secretly hoped someone would manage it.

Keith returned to stand in front of me at the side of the bed. We both knew exactly why we were here and this awkward moment was unexpected. We knew each other inside and out from our escapades in the theater. What were we waiting for? Someone had to make the first move. I grew impatient first. I went to the bathroom, turned on the light and closed the door most of the way so some light leaked into the bedroom. I then turned off the room lights and returned to stand in front of Keith.

I took the hem of my blouse and pulled it off over my head. I held my blouse in one hand and stood proudly in front of him with my breasts exposed. He gazed at my breasts for a moment and then he stepped to the wall and turned on the lights again before he returned to stand in front of me.

His visual examination of me was disturbing and thrilling at the same time. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he admiring my body for the thrill it gave him or was he rating me by some standard that only he knew. I hoped my breasts were a seven or an eight in his estimation.

I stood, unflinching as he digested my appearance. I wasn't going any further. It was his turn and I was willing to wait until he figured it out. It didn't take him long. Smiling, he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and tossed it behind him. I tossed my blouse behind me.

His body attracted my attention just as my breasts had attracted his attention. He had a broad chest with a moderate amount of hair the same color as the hair on his head and his shoulders and biceps revealed signs of a previous athletic experience. His abdomen was taught, something between a six-pack and a belly. Overall, more than acceptable. I began to get wet looking at him.

It was my turn. By my calculation, I was behind. I had my short skirt without panties. He was wearing his trousers and his underwear unless he too had opted to dress commando. I really wanted him to make the next move. I kicked off my sandals and waited.

A quiet laugh escaped his lips. He kicked off his shoes and danced alternately on each leg while he pulled off his socks.

My turn again. I'm still potentially down one piece of clothing. I waited to see what Keith would do. Once again, his patience won. "What the hell," I thought. I unbuttoned my skirt, pulled the zipper down and let it fall to my feet. I stepped out of it with one foot and kicked it behind me with the other.

I stood even more proudly in front of him totally naked. I was confident in my appearance. My pubic hair was a perfect triangle, neatly trimmed on the top and sides and combed to a uniform length with a number eight comb on my electric clipper.

But I was still naked, in bright light, in front of a man I only knew in the dark of the theater. I was outwardly calm but shaking inside as he looked at me.

When he didn't move, I stepped closer to him, reached out and began to unbuckle his belt. He stood stoically while I worked. His belt loosened and I unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper of his fly down. A tug on the sides of his trousers slipped them over his hips and they fell to the floor around his ankles.

He wasn't wearing underwear and his penis wasn't soft. It was at least a seven, maybe an eight, hopefully inspired by his visual examination of my body. Without hesitation, I knelt in front of him and took his erection in my hand. I looked up at him. He was watching me with an intensity I hadn't noticed in the dim light of the theater. I put my mouth over the head of his erection and closed my eyes.

His cock felt incredible in my mouth. None of the contortionist positions required in the theater. Just me, on my knees, in front of an erection that wanted my mouth around it as much as my mouth wanted to be around it. I could feel it getting longer and stiffer as I worked on it in my mouth, the silky smoothness of the skin sliding on the hard core beneath. I pushed it to the back of my mouth until it lodged in my throat. I swallowed, causing my throat muscles to squeeze the head of his erection and then moved back so I could breathe.

I felt his pulse quicken and a shiver roll up and down his body. His legs weakened and I helped him move until he could sit on the edge of the bed. Keith leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs so I could continue sucking on his erection without interruption.

I could suck his cock for hours but that wasn't why I was here. I wanted two things we hadn't had in the theater. I wanted him to suck on my clitoris and I wanted to fuck him. However, having him cum in my mouth had some appeal. It would postpone fucking him but allow a natural transition to option one.

I doubled my efforts and Keith responded. He came forcefully in my mouth. His legs stiffened and his hips lifted off the bed as he convulsed and surged several cubic centimeters of hot semen into my welcoming mouth.

I swallowed quickly, licked my lips and, before Keith could recover, I moved my body on top of his and slid up his torso until my leaking labia were centered over his mouth. I wiggled my vagina on his mouth until I felt his tongue enter me. I relaxed into the penetration of his tongue. His arms surrounded my thighs and he rolled us over until I was on my back with my legs spread high over my head and his head buried in between my thighs.

He was very good. Either he had lots of practice or a good teacher. He was firm and deliberate like a man who knows exactly what a woman wants and yet, he was delicate, like a woman. I held on as long as I could and, when I succumbed, I fell into an orgasmic abyss, screaming as my body disintegrated into total energy.

I recovered slowly. When awareness returned, Keith was holding me in his arms and gently massaging my breasts. Barely conscious, I reached for his erection. I found him relaxed but he quickly recovered into an erection any man would be proud of and any woman would be proud to have.

"Fuck me, please," I managed to say.

"So soon?" he asked.

"Yes, please," I begged. "While I'm still able to ask."

Keith lay me down in the center of the bed and spread my hair on a pillow. "Like an angel," he said.

I spread my legs and bent my knees with my heels on the bed. Keith kissed my nipples, my navel and barely touched my clitoris with his tongue. He moved between my legs and I could feel the tip of his erection brushing against my labia.

I grabbed another pillow and tossed it at him. "Put this under my ass," I ordered.

Keith entered me with my pussy at the perfect angle to fully appreciate the beauty and depth of his invasion. He moved into me slowly, the friction of his entry perfectly stimulating the front surface of my vagina. I exhaled sharply as he reached his limit. I held him in place with my hands on his hips for several moments and then let him go and shifted my hips tell him it was time to move.

We began a rhythmic dance. Each time he slid into me, I moved inexorably closer to what was to be a life assuring orgasm. Each time he withdrew, I moved a step back. After what felt like hundreds of strokes, I was nearing the edge of the orgasmic chasm I wanted so badly and afraid to reach.

Without warning, Keith leaned into me, screamed and came inside me, the heat of his boiling semen flooding my body and warming my tits. I went over the edge with him, an orgasm so powerful that I blacked out.

I woke hours later. The room was dark and I was alone in the bed. The clock on the bedside table told me it was just after three thirty in the morning. The bathroom light was on and the door closed. I assumed that Keith was in the bathroom. I waited for him to come back to bed and fell asleep again.

When I woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. The clock read seven fifteen. I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to pee. Back in the bedroom, the bed was empty and Keith's clothing was gone. I assumed he managed to leave in time to get to work, wherever that was.

I took a shower, found my phone, sat on the edge of the bed and called in sick for the day. I found my meager clothing and left the motel as unobtrusively as possible.

Back home, I stripped and climbed into my own bed to sleep some more. I woke mid afternoon and replayed the events of last night as much as I could remember them. Over the weekend, next Thursday loomed large in my plans. I realized that there would never be another first time but I wanted as much of it as I could get.

The week dragged. On Thursday, I left work early, went home, showered and dressed conservatively. This time the undressing would be an important part of the ritual leading to the orgasms I so wanted and so feared. I went to the theater early and waited for Keith. I waited until the movie started. I thought I might have missed him and bought a ticket. I skipped the popcorn and entered the theater. From the aisle, I could see that row K, seat 9 was empty and so was seat 7. I swallowed hard and left the theater hoping nothing had happened to Keith that prevented him from coming to the theater tonight.

I lay in bed, touching myself where I hoped that Keith would have been touching me. I thought about missing Keith at the theater and concluded that he hadn't had a problem. He had never planned to go to the theater that night, or any other night. He had stood me up. That son of a bitch had fucked me and, having gotten what he wanted, he bailed out.

I was furious. If I ever saw him again I would tear off his balls and shove them into his mouth next to his talented and lying tongue. I was hopeless at work on Friday. My supervisor sent me home to get my act together.

Friday night I fell asleep thinking of revenge. By Saturday night my anger had subsided. He wasn't worthy of my revenge. Sunday morning I was willing to pardon him if not forgive him. Hadn't he given me the most incredible night of my life? So what if he stood me up. We didn't have a real date. I really had no idea who he was or how to locate him. His name was probably not Keith anyway. After all, I lied to him from the beginning why wouldn't he lie to me? He thought my name was Ann.

His intentions were no worse than mine. Hadn't I pursued him just to get him to fuck me? It seemed we both got what we wanted. It was time to lick my wounds and move on.

If only I could find someone to lick my pussy.

Monday I was a work genius. Everyone, including my supervisor noticed my renewed energy. I even worked overtime Thursday, skipping the movies.

The following Thursday I went to the movies again. I dressed in my above the knee skirt and a button down shirt with bra and panties. I bought my ticket and my popcorn. In the theater, I stood at the top of the aisle and looked at the other patrons. I avoided looking at row K. Seats 7 and 9 were empty anyway. I noticed a thirty something gentleman sitting midway into row P. I moved in and sat next to him.

He barely noticed my presence. I waited until the previews were over and the lights dimmed before I put my hand on his thigh. I acted as if I didn't notice his stare as he wondered what was going on. I just squeezed his thigh and slid my hand between his legs. His body stiffened as if he was opposed to what I was doing but his legs separated slightly.

I moved my hand up on his thigh until I could feel his cock through his pants. It was developing nicely. I managed to shift it around in his pants to increase his comfort as it increased in size.

He put a hand on my thigh. I gently, but decisively removed his hand.

I stroked his erection, sure he understood my intention.

He put his hand on my thigh again. Again, I removed it. For his third attempt, he reached for my tits.

I let his hand linger on my tit for a couple of minutes and removed it when he started to squeeze.

His first words were unexpected and a little shocking.

"How much?" he asked.

My response was even more shocking. "One hundred," I said.

"Here?" he wanted to know.

"There's a motel two blocks up the avenue," I explained.

"Meet you outside?" he asked.

I patted his erection and left the theater.

I waited outside for him to join me. He took longer than I expected. "What the fuck was I doing?" I asked myself. "Did I just agree to sell my pussy for a hundred dollars? And what was taking him so long? Had he changed his mind or lost his courage? I wish he'd hurry before I lost mine."

He exited the theater held and out his hand. "John," he said.

"Appropriate," I thought. I shook his hand with my fingertips. "Ann," I said.

We walked together to the motel. I waited while he went into the office and paid for a room. He showed me the plastic key fob with the number 312 on it. I laughed at the coincidence and followed him to the room.

He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I stood outside and waited. It took him a minute to figure out the delay. He took out his wallet and counted out five twenties and handed them to me.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I said, tucked the twenties into my purse and walked into the room.

I wasted no time in helping him remove his clothing. He didn't resist but I could see in his eyes that he would prefer to have me remove my clothing. I knelt in front of him and took his penis into my mouth. I assumed that would be the first thing he wanted. Somehow, somewhere, probably from the pornographic videos I had watched over the years, I thought that was the normal progression of things.

For John, that wasn't what he wanted. I forgot for a moment that since he was paying me that we were here not to do what I wanted but what he wanted. What he wanted was for me to take off my clothing.

He stepped back and used his hands on my arms to stand me up in front of him. "Take off your clothes, please," he suggested.

He sat on the bed while I disrobed. It felt strange removing my clothing in front of an audience of one where taking off my clothing was the primary objective not just another step in a process leading to sex. If John had a specific agenda in mind, I hadn't a clue what it might be or where it might lead. Not knowing caused me some concern but I stiffened my resolve and motored on.

I began to remove my shirt. "Slowly," ordered John.

He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his cock as I undressed, slowly, and he watched intently. When I exposed my breasts, he inhaled sharply and increased the pace of his stroking on his hardening cock. I kicked off my sandals. He put up his idle hand to stop me from going further and beckoned me to move closer to him. Without losing a beat, he put his arm around my waist, pulled me closer and pushed his face into my right breast.

He held my breast and slid his face all over its surface. His tongue licked my skin and my nipple got special attention until he sucked it into his mouth. Suddenly, he erupted, semen shooting over my abdomen and skirt. He pumped his erection until he had no more bullets and fell back on the bed with his eyes closed and his hand still clutching his now deflating penis.

I didn't know what to do next. Should I clean up, get dressed and leave? Probably not. He was paying me and I felt obliged to stay with him until we fucked or he told me to leave. I took off my skirt and panties, cleaned myself and my skirt as best I could in the bathroom and lay alongside him on the bed.

I was playing idly with his cock when he opened his eyes. "Hi," I said.

"You're still here?" he asked.

"Obviously," I responded.

"I thought you might leave," he said.

"Why would I leave?" I asked.

"The others usually do," he commented.

I thought about that for a second. Apparently this wasn't the first time he had paid for sex. "I'm not the others," I said.

"You're not," he said while ogling my tits.

"Do you want to fuck or should I leave?" I asked.

"Can I suck your tits before we fuck?" John asked.

"Of course," I said. I loved tit play as much as anything else and maybe I could get him to suck my clitoris as well. I lay on my back and invited him to explore my tits.

John was an experienced tit sucker. He managed to bring me to the verge of an orgasm by just holding, kissing and sucking on my nipples. He resisted moving further down my body. "You've done this before," I stated.

"Yours are number one hundred and thirty seven," he informed me.

An impressive number. I wondered where in that plethora of tits John rated mine. I wasn't going to ask.

When he had exhausted his penchant for tits, he had another erection. I pushed him on his back and straddled him. He felt good inside me but there wasn't much energy involved. I rolled us over and he began to stroke inside me, supporting himself on his arms. He came for the second time inside me without finishing what he had started when sucking my tits.

Later, as he lay on the bed watching me get dressed, he said, "I owe you more money."

"No," I said. "We're all square."

"I got more than I paid for," he insisted. He got off the bed, picked up his pants, found his wallet and took out five more twenty dollar bills. He pressed them into my hand.

"I don't want more money," I insisted.

"Take it, please," he said.

I took the money, said, "Thank you," kissed him quickly on his cheek and walked home.

On the walk home, I marveled at having an extra two hundred dollars in my purse. I had gone to the movies looking for sex and found... what? Sex? Not really. True, John and I had sex but it wasn't anything to write home about. I didn't even have a small orgasm.

What was it then? A new hobby? A profession? Was it really that easy? Two hundred to let some guy maul my breasts for an hour and a quick fuck afterwards? Everything I'd ever heard about prostitution was that it wasn't that easy. Meeting strange men in strange environments, some with aggressive, or even violent, tendencies wasn't the ideal profession.

But the money seemed good. Maybe the payoff was worth the risk.

Other than unpredictable clients, what were the risks? Injury? Disease? Pregnancy? Reputation?

All seemed manageable. If I carefully chose my clients and took reasonable precautions, like medical checkups and birth control, it could be exciting and profitable.

I needed time to think. I also needed more experience. Next Thursday, I was going to the movies again.

Work all week was mundane and boring. My attitude buoyed as Thursday progressed. After work, I took a leisurely shower, dressed modestly and headed for the theater.

Inside, I spotted a well constructed man sitting alone on the side of the theater. Casually, I sat next to him. He looked at me, probably wondering why, with all the empty seats in the theater, I sat next to him. Minutes later, I gave him his first clue. I put my hand on his thigh.

He looked at me. I smiled. He smiled. I squeezed his thigh. He put his hand on my thigh.

I moved my hand toward his family jewelry box. He tried to slide his hand between my legs but my skirt impeded his progress. I put my hand on his crotch, where I noticed his burgeoning erection, to encourage him. His hand slid down to the hem of my skirt and settled on my skin below the hem and above my knee.

I put a hand on his hand and squeezed my legs together. He looked at me, confused at the mixed signals.

"Two hundred," I said.

He jerked his hand away and slapped my hand from his crotch. "Get away from me, you skank, before I call the manager," he snarled.