With a smooth flick, I unlatched the hook securing the cups of Deen’s bra. Her bumpers bounced free of their restraints, looking delectably milky and soft in the movie light. The scene on the big screen was set on a bright afternoon, providing relatively good lighting for the theater.
Realizing this, Deen tried to cover herself up. But I grabbed her hand next to me. She only managed to cover one breast with the other side of her blouse.
“Just a few seconds…” I whispered to her. “No one’s looking at you.” I gave her an assuring kiss on her cheek. It was fun corrupting Deen. But I shouldn’t overdo it because it’d come back to bite me in the ass, probably literally.
“Re-really…?” she asked in a trembling voice. I could feel her wild pulse while grasping her wrist. Her heart must be pounding hard right now.
“Yes. Just relax.” I cupped her exposed left breast and raised it. It was fascinating to observe her nipple stiffen in the cold air of the theater. I could feel her racing heartbeat. I leaned over her and took her nipple between my lips.
A soft gasp escaped Deen’s mouth. Her hand rubbed the back of my head; her fingers buried themselves in my hair. She pulled me closer to her chest. I knew that she was using me to cover up, while also enjoying her nipple getting sucked. Good that Deen had some decency left.
I continued for several seconds, alternating between nibbles and licking. I surfaced from her chest. Then I hooked on the strap of her bra and pulled. “Remove this.”
“I…” Deen held in her complaints. She meekly nodded, meeting my stern stare.
I knew that there were times she wanted to be dominated. Other times, she wanted to be in charge. Getting ordered around to be an exhibitionist was a nice combo. Her chest flushed red. Even her breasts seemed fuller as she became more aroused.
With some contortionist trick that girls have mastered through the ancient scrolls, Deen managed to remove one strap of her bra without needing to undress fully. It was much easier to remove the other strap. I button her blouse back up. But not all the way, leaving a button open to show more of her cleavage.
Somehow, it felt like I was showing off my possessions. Well, it wasn’t my literal cleavage—I had none to display to the world. However, Deen was mine. By transitive property, her cleavage was also mine. Was this what rich old men with trophy wives feel like?
I pulled Deen’s unhooked bra, which had fallen around her midsection, out from under her blouse. “Put this in your bag,” I said.
“Wha-what?” I heard Deen gulp. She continued in a pitch higher, “Do you want me to go braless out there? I thought it’d be just for this movie.”
“Don’t tell me that you haven’t done that before? Like, you went out of your house without a bra to water the plants or something? Maybe a short trip to the store?”
“Those are different things compared to being braless in a crowded mall—I’m not so daring.”
“Try to be a bit daring now,” I said, touching the pronounced bump on her blouse that was her nipple.
“My blouse is so thin with a light color,” Deen breathlessly replied as I tried to trace her areola under her clothes. “I’ll probably be fine if I were wearing a dark shirt. Not… this…”
“Just cover it with your hair.” I arranged her golden locks to fall down her front. “See? No one can tell. In return, we have our little fun.” Just a little. I wouldn’t want Deen to turn into a full-on exhibitionist. “We sort of forgot about the crumbs, didn’t we?”
Deen chuckled. “We did. So… what’ll we do next?” Her eyes were filled with anticipation.
“Lower yourself a little,” I said, stretching up for a kiss. I held the back of Deen’s head and pulled her down.
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It was a gentle kiss, compared to the insane saliva exchange we’d usually do. Little pecks. Deen got the message to take it slow because she also didn’t go in deep. Our lips touched again and again, with a tiny bit more force than the last. A couple of minutes later, we were mashing our lips together so hard that I could almost feel Deen’s teeth behind her lips. Still, we didn’t involve any tongues.
In some ways, this felt more intimate than a vacuum-sealed deep kiss. Deen was super into it, her eyes closed, slightly moaning with every clash of our lips.
When we parted, Deen gasped. She was looking past me.
“What is it?” I asked, about to turn around. But Deen held my cheeks.
“Sit straight in your chair,” she urgently whispered. “Pretend that we weren’t doing anything.”
“Was someone looking at us?”
Deen nodded. “The couple at the far end of this row.”
“And you’re scared of… what? They don’t know who we are. I don’t think they’ll be able to recognize you if you keep your face stuck to mine.”
Deen gave me a playful slap on my shoulder. “You’re so forward today. I like it… sort of. But please don’t push me too much on public displays of affection. If my family finds out that, um…”
“Making out with another woman? It’s modern times already—you told me that yourself.” Regurgitating Deen’s arguments. I knew that she didn’t particularly do well if stuff was thrown back at her. If she sensed that she had more to lose in a situation—in this case, a possible scandal that’d bother her family—she’d usually back off.
“I suppose that you’re right… My parents wouldn’t object. But if people know that I’m going out with you, then my sister will remember that you stayed at our place. She’d assume that we did something back then, even though we didn’t. She’d make a big issue out of it and—”
“Deen,” I firmly said, holding her hand. “No way your sister remembers me. I do not register in her consciousness. Even if she’d remember me, she wouldn’t care about us. Calm down.”
“I’ll be calm if we keep discreet. And this isn’t because I’m ashamed to be seen with you. It’s the reaction of my parents that I’m worried about.”
“I know, I know. Fine. No more kissing in the theater. But there are other things that we can do.”
“Like…?”
“Unbutton your jeans.”
“What?” Deen jolted.
“You were talking about getting wet. Let me check.”
“Wait a moment. I didn’t mean—”
I tilted my head. “What did you mean back then? Weren’t we supposed to do something here? I thought that you wanted to go on a movie date because you had ulterior motives. You mentioned the darkness and the sounds of the movie covering, um, whatever.”
“That was back then,” Deen squeaked. “I didn’t realize that people might notice us. I thought they’d focus on the movie.”
“You’re not very good at planning, are you? And people say that it’s the guys who think with their dicks.” Deen flinched when I said that; she was probably surprised to hear me say ‘dick’. I continued, “But we’re here now. And we’re going to do… something. Unbutton your jeans because it’s difficult for me to do it for you.”
“We’ll get seen.”
“Just do it,” I firmly whispered. “I’m not telling you to go bottomless. Keep your pants on, and my hand will be inside your pants. A simple enough concept, right? Cover my arm with your bag and hair. Voila. No one would know what I’m doing to you.”
“Okay…” Deen sidled lower in her seat to make it easier to unbutton her jeans. Parting the flaps, I spotted the white lace of her panties.
“Sit straight,” I said. “Otherwise, I can’t reach you. My arms are too short. And stick to me.” Deen wordlessly followed my instructions.
She sat to my right. With my right hand, I reached into the bag of goodies. I wriggled my fingers into the band of her panties and had them crawl down. I thought of them like the legs of a tarantula. I know this was a sensual moment and all that, but I just couldn’t help myself thinking random thoughts. I pushed my hand down until I reached a small tuft of hair. I couldn’t see it now, but I knew that they were blonde like Deen’s golden locks. That was always an amusing sight for me.
Down a bit more, and I touched something sticky.
“Wow, you are wet already,” I whispered at Deen.
She was leaning on me again. But since she was sitting properly on her seat, she was taller than me. She laid her head against the top of mine. “How can I not be wet after what you did to me?”
