Film Studies

He had never understood the concept of the cinema date, especially for a first date.

Sure, he liked movies, but why go somewhere you couldn't talk? Still, she'd suggested it, so he didn't want to seem rude. Besides, it had been a nice afternoon so far.

They'd gone for a walk by the bay, grabbed a burger (splitting the fries, most of which she ate even though she "only wanted a couple"), and now here they were, in an afternoon showing of a movie he'd never even heard of.

And from the looks of things, neither had anyone else.

Aside from an older couple sitting towards the front (shouldn't they be at work?), they were the only people in the screen.

They'd bought two tickets towards the back, to one side, which was his preferred viewing position, but once they were in there, she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the middle of the aisle, where the premium seats were.

He was a bit nervous about breaking the rules. He didn't like sitting in his non-allocated seat, let alone an upgrade he hadn't paid for. But he didn't want to seem like a spoilsport, so went along with it.

It's fine, he thought, I just won't enjoy the movie.

Not that he expected to anyway. From what he could tell from the poster on the way in, it was some kind of "artistic" movie, the kind that had a "message" instead of being, you know, entertaining. His heart sank further once the trailers (all for "artistic" movies) finished, and the movie started. It was in black and white.

Black and white!

This was going to be the longest two hours of his life.

Still, he was able to take some comfort in the fact the chairs were comfy and had plenty of legroom. Better to be bored in comfort, he supposed.

As he settled in, he was fully aware his attitude was completely the opposite of his companion. She sat there, a big smile on her face, her big brown eyes glued to the screen, the light casting a gentle glow on her pale brown skin.

He'd seen her around college and was immediately captivated by her. She had shoulder-length, dark brown hair, and a slim frame. She didn't have much in the way of breasts, but he didn't mind that. In fact, he thought her small cups complimented her figure. Anything bigger would have looked out of place.

He didn't have much dating experience, so was too nervous to speak to her. To make things worse, they didn't even share any classes, so he couldn't even say something about that. Still, he saw her around a lot, so their class schedules must have been similar, but he knew he would never have the balls to talk to her, so resigned himself to jerking off whilst thinking about her, several times a day.

So, it came as a complete shock when one day, out of the blue, she casually walked up to him and asked him out. At first, he thought it was a joke, potentially a cruel one, but she seemed to be sincere in her manner, so he tried his best to play it cool and agreed.

Once she'd given a time and a place she'd hurried off, presumably to another class, and he went to his.

That lesson he didn't learn a goddamn thing. All he could think about was what just happened. Was it for real? Did she really want to go on a date with him, or was it some kind of sick game? He wasn't sure but the mixture of excitement and fear made him sick to his stomach.

So he was for the next two days, whilst waiting for the date in question. He had thought about cancelling but realised the only way to do that would be to see her in college and tell her face to face, as he didn't have any of her details. He was never going to do that.

Besides, he hadn't seen her around much since then and he began to suspect she was avoiding him. He was sure she even walked past him once without acknowledging him at all, but was sure she had seen him.

His only options were to go or not. If he went, he ran the risk of a public humiliation he would never live down. If he didn't go, he might miss the opportunity to go on a real-life date, and then be forced to avoid her for the next three years, or drop out. Still, he struggled with the choice.

In the end, he decided to go but held no expectations. He would play it cool and if it was a trick, then no big deal, he had been coming down here anyway. He would simply go do something else, after all, it was a free country.

He got to the bay a couple of minutes before they were due to meet, but she was nowhere to be seen.

No big deal, he thought. He was simply early.

Two minutes passed and it was the meeting time but still she didn't show.

Then five more minutes passed and still nothing. His heart began to sink as the realisation that she probably wasn't coming sank in. Or worse, she was watching from around some corner, her and her friends laughing at the simp standing alone, waiting for a date who would never show.

He decided to give her five more minutes, just in case. After all, some people are just naturally late.

Five minutes later, he was still alone. He sighed and began to walk away. He couldn't say he was surprised, but he couldn't deny the sense of disappointment that was causing his chest to tense up either. Of course, she wouldn't go on a date with him. She was far too pretty, and he was just some average-looking guy. Nothing special, but nothing repellent either, at least he didn't think so.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she said, panting, her hands slapping on his back.

"Jesus Christ!" He shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin. He wasn't used to being touched, certainly not in such a casual manner. Physical contact usually meant some kind of altercation or "banter" from other guys. Casual touching by girls was not a thing in his world.

"Are you ok?" She asked, alarmed.

"I'm fine," he lied. "Just didn't expect that."

"I'm so sorry I'm late," she said, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. She'd clearly been running. "There was a whole thing at the library, but I'm here now. If you still want to...?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, trying to put on a casual affectation. He was still on alert, his fight or flight response having been triggered, but he was beginning to think this might be a real date after all.

As the afternoon progressed, he finally began to relax into it. He enjoyed her company, she was smart and funny and cute and most importantly, nice to him.

He'd known some friends in relationships and all they ever did was bicker or argue or "banter" with one another, which to his mind, seemed like low-level bullying. He was not interested in that at all. He'd had plenty of non-relationship experience with that and just wanted someone he could relax around.

The one thing he would need to be careful of was mistaking niceness for romantic interest. He had mistaken this a few times before and the result had been awkwardness and the ending of friendships, whether long-standing or newly-formed. So he had decided to ignore everything he might consider "a signal" because he realised he had no idea what that actually meant, and the last thing he wanted was to become known as some creepy guy hitting on women who weren't interested, or worse, an incel.

Truth be told, he had never worried about actually becoming an incel, for as far as he could tell those were guys who couldn't get laid and blamed women for not fucking him. He was the complete opposite. Even though he couldn't get laid, he knew it was entirely his own fault. He had no game and no idea what to do about it, so it didn't make sense to blame women for his shortcomings.

So, he decided to treat the whole thing as an afternoon with a friend. No creepiness, no weird moves, just be polite and have fun. And that's precisely what happened. He'd had a really nice afternoon and thought it was coming to an end when she had suggested the cinema.

He hadn't really budgeted for it but decided he should splash the cash and worry about it later.

They went to the cinema and she picked the movie, without hesitation. He would much rather have seen something (anything) else, but he decided it would be rude. They queued up to get a large popcorn and a couple of soft drinks and even though he offered to pay, she insisted on splitting the bill (very much a "friend" thing to do, in his mind).

So here they were, sitting in the middle of a black and white movie about the problems of a middle-aged couple, her to his left, his drink on his right, with the large tub of popcorn on his lap.

He thought of the scene in that old movie he'd seen once, where the guy cuts a hole in the bottom of the popcorn bucket and the girl reaches in and grabs his dick. He thought it funny at the time, but in reality, it would definitely qualify as sexual harassment, if not assault.

Besides, she'd have to eat a lot of popcorn before she got to his dick, not because it was small (he considered himself, like in most other areas of life, to be satisfactorily average) but because it was an obscenely large tub. Plus, he imagined the salt and butter would be really uncomfortable.

So he sat there in the darkness, watching as her hand grabbed fistfuls of popcorn at a time. For such a small frame, she could certainly eat.

He himself was rather full from the burger and only ate the occasional kernel, washing it down with a sip of coke. He kept glancing over at her, but he seemed utterly engrossed in the film, the excitement on her face palpable. It was as if they were watching a completely different movie.

After what seemed like an age, he slipped the top of his phone out of his pocket, covering as much of the screen as possible to avoid her seeing the light, and checked the time.

Surely it's nearly over? He thought.

As the screen lit up, he nearly let out a loud moan. It had only been twenty minutes! What was he going to do? He considered having a nap, but thought that might be rude, although, in reality, he was probably going to doze off anyway. The burger was heavy in his stomach and he had already felt drowsy.

She looked over at him, and he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"Enjoying the film?" She asked, a sly smile on her face.

He nodded his head in the affirmative and she struggled to stifle a laugh.

Oh shit, he thought. This is the trick.

He couldn't quite see why spending a pleasant afternoon with someone and then making them watch a boring movie was funny, but here they were.

"Shh," said the couple down in front, and she struggled even more to contain her laughter.

Finally, she calmed down and took a sip of cola.

He focused on the screen, unsure what to do. Was it better to watch the film and see it through, as if he was enjoying it, or should he just leave?

Before he could make a decision, she took the popcorn off his lap and put it to the side, before placing her hand on his thigh.

His entire body tensed at her touch, and she must have sensed it because she didn't move it, just left it there.

It took a few moments for him to relax and accept the hand was right next to his dick. Whatever sort of prank this was, he didn't have a clue.

"This is why I like the big seats," she said, leaning in and whispering into his ear.

He wasn't quite sure what she meant but then saw her slip out of her chair and kneel on the floor. She moved down the aisle, until she was in front of him, and parted his legs.

She can't possibly be about to do that? He thought, but couldn't think of any other explanation.

She ran her hands up his thighs, and he could feel himself getting hard, his cock constrained by his jeans.

He tried to stay calm, thinking that any second now her friends (who he had entirely imagined) would pop out with their camera phones and photograph the whole thing.

But there was no sound apart from the movie and his shallow breathing.

She ran her hand up over his bulge and she smiled as it twitched under her touch. She rubbed him over his jeans and he felt himself getting harder and harder. That his dick was trapped in his jeans made it uncomfortable, but at least it made it easier not to cum.

That would be humiliating, for not only was this his first sexual experience in a public place, it was his first sexual experience, period. The last thing he wanted was for it to become a memory that haunted him forever.

The pressure on his dick was relieved slightly when she undid the top button of his jeans. He looked down and saw her staring up at him, her hands popping each button, slowly and methodically, before sliding her hand inside and squeezing his dick through his boxers. She rubbed gently and he was sure she could feel the damp spot of pre-cum.

She smiled and slowly, carefully, pulled down the top of his boxers and, slipping a hand into them, scooped out his dick. It bounced off his belly and vibrated in the air. The whole scene struck him as so comical that he nearly burst into laughter.

But she put an end to that when she took his dick in her hand and gently pulled back the foreskin. She looked at it, examining it for the first time, then, happy with what she saw, began slowly working it up and down.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of someone other than him touching his dick for the first time. In the background, the movie continued to play and a couple argued about some domestic trifle, but he couldn't hear anything.

The touch of her delicate hand, the smell of her perfume mixing with the popcorn, mixing indelibly in his mind, now and forever.

She worked him, faster and faster and all too soon he was on the cusp of cumming. He could feel himself about to explode, when she stopped.

He looked down, suddenly alert to where they were. His dick was still in her hand, but it wasn't moving. He looked around, terrified that an usher was about to bust them. The last thing he needed was to be charged with indecent exposure.

But there was no one there, aside from the two of them and the other couple, seemingly engrossed in the film.

He sighed with relief, but his attention was brought back to her when she gave his prick a little squeeze. He looked down and, seemingly satisfied she had his full attention, she moved closer and took his dick in her mouth.

He moaned as the warm, wet hole enveloped his prick for the first time, the sound masked by the movie.

Fuck, he thought, if this is how good her mouth is, what must her pussy be like?

She slid up and down slowly, sliding her thin lips up and down the shaft, her hands firmly on his thighs.

She got faster and faster, her head bobbing up and down and all he wanted to do was nut in her mouth. But he knew he had to calm down, make it last. The shock of earlier had brought him from the edge, and he was comfortable he could do this for a while.

Then she stopped, again.

She slid his dick out of her mouth and started working the shaft with her hand. Lubricated with her spit, it felt much better than before, and as she worked his shaft full pelt, she began to run her tongue over the head. It was incredibly sensitive, but she was very delicate, working it like an expert.

He wondered how many dicks she must have sucked to get this good, but realised he didn't care. As long as his dick was in her mouth, then it was all good.

With that, she slipped his dick back into her mouth, sucking it tighter than before, her lips forming a seal, like she was trying to extract his cum by force. The pressure felt good and he gripped the armrests to try to stop from cumming, but it was no good.

"I'm cumming," he whispered, and she squeezed his thighs tighter, digging the nails into them.

She sucked harder and harder until he couldn't contain himself, unloading his virgin cock into her expert mouth like a fucking volcano. As he shot load after load, she kept going, until she was satisfied she had it all.

She took his dick out of her mouth, and kissed the tip, before making a swallowing motion and then leaning over to kiss him for the first time. He was taken aback that she tasted of him, but embraced it and kissed her back, copying her moves, learning from her once again.

When she was done, she swung herself back into her seat, leaving his still-hard dick swinging in the wind.

"You might want to put that away," she said, smiling, and he obliged, tucking his slick dick back into his jeans. "At least, for now."

She leaned back, stretching her legs in the ample aisle, rubbing her knees which had been pressed against the hard floor.

"Are you ok?" He whispered.

"Never better," she said, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. He could feel his cheeks reddening and felt silly that he was more embarrassed by that casual display of affection than what came before it.

He heard a click and saw her unbuttoning her jeans.

"My turn," she said.

He tried to think of a response, but his mind was blank. He had no idea what to do.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll guide you."

With that, she took his hand and slid it into her jeans. He felt the warmth of her panties, the wetness spread across the fabric. With her hand on top of his, she began to guide him, moving gently up and down over her, the warmth of her pussy underneath and the softness of her palm above.

She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, giving herself to the stimulation.

He continued to rub with her guidance, his hand making gentle circles over the fabric, moving up and down.

This is pretty easy, he thought. I don't see what all the fuss is about.

They continued in this fashion for a couple of minutes, until without warning she slid his hand up to her belly, and then down, their hands slipping into her panties.

He felt the short bristles of her pubis as his hand slid down into her warmth.

His middle finger slipped involuntarily between her moist lips and she moaned with pleasure. Still, she pushed his hand down further and further, much further than he thought it should go.

Then, underneath, he felt her warm, wet entrance and she curled her fingers, curling his, his middle finger entering her.

"Oh fuck," she murmured, as his finger slid deeper and deeper into her, up to the second knuckle. She stopped and pulled his hand out and slipped it back in. In and out in a steady rhythm, his finger penetrating her, the warm flesh enveloping it.

As he rubbed he could smell her sex rising, the scent of arousal, and wondered how long it would be before anyone else could smell it. But she seemed not to care, for she was sat there, legs spread, working his hand in and out of her pussy, getting wetter and wetter.

At the same time, he could feel himself getting hard again in his unbuttoned jeans.

He looked at her face, her beautiful clear skin, those soft lips opening and closing as his fingers moved inside her until, without a word, she pulled him out of her and up towards the top of her panties.

She must have cum, he thought to himself. It would explain why she was so wet.

But she wasn't finished yet.

His fingers slid up over her pussy, over her lips to the top, the base of his palm settling on her pubes, as she began to move his fingers in a large, slow circle over her clit.

She moaned, louder than before, his wet fingers seemingly making her lose control. The very thought made him rock hard and he just wanted her to touch him again.

She moved her hand and he moved his, the circles getting smaller and smaller, but faster and faster. Light, precise movements concentrated on one specific area. She began to grind her hips as he circled her clit, her breathing getting deeper.

As he watched her writhe under his touch he realised he had never experienced anything so fucking hot. Even her sucking his dick, which was amazing, paled in comparison to bringing another person to the edge of climax.