Chapter 6 #2
“Damnit,” the boy mutters, still standing. He glances at me, then at the mess, and his face does a weird twist, like he can’t decide if he’s mortified or just mad. “You totally did that on purpose,” he snaps at Thomas, but his voice is too high, too whiny to land.
Thomas just smiles, a cold little curve of his mouth, and says, “No, it was an accident.”
For a second, nobody says anything. Then Jake, in a full-volume stage whisper, says, “Fuck this. Date’s over,” and pushes past me, shuffling sideways out of the aisle, still trying to hold his pants away from his skin.
He leaves behind a damp shadow on the seat, a scattering of popcorn, and the sudden, humming vacuum of his absence.
I sit there, stunned. My pulse is a jackhammer in my wrists. The whole theater is watching, then not watching, then pretending nothing happened. Thomas returns to his row, his date still oblivious. I can’t decide if I want to kill him, thank him, or both.
I should leave. I should follow Jake out, say something, anything.
Instead, I just settle deeper into the seat, set the popcorn tub on the floor, and let the current scene wash over me.
The film is a blur of motion and noise and color, but my focus is pinned to Thomas, to the broad shadow of his shoulders, the angle of his neck, the possibility that at any second he’ll turn and look back.
He never does.
But I can’t look away, either.
I tell myself I won’t do anything. That I’ll sit here and watch the whole dumb movie, and afterwards I’ll go home and shower until I can’t feel anything. That I’ll never look at Thomas again. But fifteen minutes later, I see him stand, stretch, and walk up the aisle.
He’s moving slow, like he’s waiting to see if anyone’s watching.
The woman with him doesn’t even glance up, glued to the flickering screen like it’s the only source of light in the world.
I track Thomas’s silhouette as he slips through the side door, a brief flash of him in the white glow of the lobby before the darkness swallows him.
I sit perfectly still. I stare straight ahead, even though my mind is running laps around itself. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom. Maybe he’s leaving. Maybe he’s trying to get my attention, or maybe he’s never thought of me for more than five seconds in his whole life.
A minute ticks by. My leg bounces so fast I’m shaking the entire row.
Then, as if controlled by a hand I can’t see, I get up and follow.
The theater corridor is a time capsule—carpet that smells like decades of butter and sweat, blue neon strips running the length of the floor, EXIT signs like alien runes burning at the far end.
Every footstep is amplified by the hush of the movie, the distant rumble of explosions barely masking the sound of my own heart.
I pass the bathrooms, but Thomas isn’t there. He isn’t in the candy alcove or by the lobby concessions, either.
I start to panic. Maybe I made it up. Maybe I’m the world’s biggest idiot. Maybe Jake’s right and the whole universe is a simulation designed to make me feel like shit.
I return to the theater, defeated, stepping back into the darkness when a hand snakes out from the shadows, grabs my wrist, and yanks me sideways into the back row—row X, the emergency exit row, where nobody ever sits.
Before I can yelp, Thomas clamps his hand over my mouth, then lowers it as soon as he’s sure I won’t scream.
His face is inches from mine, lit only by the spectral glow of the screen and the low, devil-red aisle lights. He’s not smiling, but there’s a determination in his eyes.
“Don’t make a sound,” he rasps, and I nod, heart flipping over itself like a salmon on a dock.
He sits, pulling me down into his lap so that I’m facing the screen, but his arms are around my waist, his breath hot on my neck. I’m suddenly aware of every detail: the texture of his shirt, the heat of his hands, the way my own body is trembling in response.
We sit like that, silent, for ten seconds. The only sound is the movie—cars crashing, guns barking, the endless, violent ballet of the Marvel universe.
Then his right hand slides under my shirt.
His fingers are colder than I expect, and my skin erupts in goosebumps.
He finds my breast, cups it, pinches the nipple until I gasp, and then pulls the shirt up and off, leaving me in my bra and jeans.
He licks his thumb, slides it under the wire, and strokes the bare skin underneath. It’s obscene, and it’s perfect.
I’m not passive—I’m just lost. I run my own hands over his thighs, the hard muscle under the fabric, and then, emboldened, reach between his legs. He’s already hard, so big that I moan throatily, trying to caress it with my tiny hand.
He leans forward, and his teeth catch my ear. “You’re going to be quiet for me, right?” he murmurs.
I nod, and he rewards me by biting the lobe, just sharp enough to hurt.
“That’s my good girl.”
He’s in control, but I’m not afraid. Not even a little. I want this—I want it more than I want to breathe.
His left hand slips down the waistband of my jeans.
He fumbles the button, finds the zipper, and slides it down.
I shiver as he works the fabric off my hips, tugging it just far enough to expose my ass.
My panties are embarrassingly cute—white with tiny blue hearts, the kind of thing you’d buy for a sleepover, not a hard fuck with a handsome man.
I feel a flare of embarrassment, but it’s swallowed by the heat of his palm against my skin.
Thomas pulls my panties to the side, exposing my asshole and the slick heat of my pussy beneath. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t hesitate—just spits into his hand and rubs the saliva into the tight ring of my anus, then presses his thumb inside.
“Oooh!” I moan quietly. “Unnh.”
On the one hand, his finger in my asshole feels so good and I love it. But on the other, I have to be careful because is this really happening again? Are we really having anal sex, this time in a movie theater with his date only a few rows up?
He leans forward, so close I can smell the scotch on his breath. “Yes, it’s happening because you’re my good girl,” he rasps. “You missed Daddy’s cock, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The moaning sigh I release is answer enough, and he chuckles deep in his chest.
He lifts me slightly, positions himself, and slides the head of his cock up and down the crack of my ass.
Oh god, it feels so good! I love having his huge monster there, and brace my hands on the armrests, expecting him to push up and into my asshole.
But this time, Thomas wants to do it differently.
“Impale yourself on my cock, baby girl,” he rasps from behind. “I want to see you ass fuck yourself on my cock.”
Oh my god, is he serious? It’s so wrong! But before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m pushing myself downwards on that massive shaft. There’s no movement at first, but then my anal ring gives way and he slides a delicious inch into my rectum.
“Oooh!” I moan.
“That a girl,” Thomas rasps behind me, his hands on my waist to steady me. “You have no idea how good you look, sliding that butt down on my rock hard cock. Now slide more,” he croons. “Do it, sweetheart, until I’m balls deep in your anus.”
Oh my god, this man is so depraved. But I love it, and obey.
I begin to press my weight down, moaning throatily as inch after inch of that massive shaft enters my anal hole.
The stretch feels so wrong, but it feels so good too!
I toss my head back and cry out again, hardly able to believe this is me.
“That’s it,” Thomas croons behind me. “Your ass looks so beautiful like this, absorbing Daddy’s dick inch by inch. You know you’re an anal whore, sweetheart. This is the third time we’ve done it, and you’ve always taken Daddy so good.”
Oh my god, oh my god. I can’t believe he talks to me like this, and yet it turns me on so much.
“Yes,” I pant breathily before pushing down all the way so that my buttocks are flush against his lap. “I’m your anal whore, Daddy.”
With that, my vision goes dark. It’s too much. It’s all of it at once—the risk, the pain, the weird beauty of being used like this, right where anyone could see.
“Oooh!” I cry out, lifting myself and then dropping my butt once more, hard, onto his cock. “Yes!”
“Fuuuuck,” Thomas groans behind me. “What a buttslut.”
Then, the older man takes over. He’s hard, horny, and I can feel the veins of his dick as he holds me in place and begins to fuck up into my asshole.
He sets a rhythm, not rough but relentless.
Every thrust into my asshole feels so good and I cry out repeatedly.
He groans into my hair, and I hear him say, “God, you’re perfect. You’re made for this.”
The movie’s at a fever pitch now—more explosions, more shouting. The sound masks the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin, as well as our labored breathing and low wails. I wonder if anyone notices, but the thought just makes me hotter.
Then, Thomas’s hand snakes around to my pussy, fingers flicking my clit in time with the pounding of my ass.
The pleasure builds fast, overwhelming, and suddenly, I can’t hold it anymore.
The combination of public sex coupled with his huge shaft pounding my asshole forces me over the edge, and I let out a loud scream as orgasm hits.
It’s violent, pleasurable and utterly primal—my whole body convulses, my vision goes white, and I almost black out.
“Ooooh!” I wail as my ass pulses around the massive shaft inside. “Mmmm!”
He follows a second later, cock erupting inside me, and I feel the hot rush as he fills me up with virile seed. The sensation is so filthy, so intense, that I come again, my ass clenching, a smaller aftershock that leaves me limp and shaking.
“Fuck!” he roars as bombs go off on screen. “Shit shit shit!”
We spasm together, his cock ejaculating gallons of virility into my back end.
My breasts feel heavy, my nipples tight as my pussy gushes wetly, loving the hot fuck in my back end.
But after a few minutes, we descend to earth, panting and sated.
We sit like that, glued together, for what feels like an hour. But it’s only seconds.
Slowly, I pull my ass up off his cock. He watches with avid eyes as the massive shaft reappears from my asshole, gleaming and wet.
“You were amazing, baby,” he rasps, before bending his head to press a kiss to my anal hole. “The way you are every single time.”
Oh my god, is this really happening? But Thomas is smiling now as he tucks himself away. Then, the older man catches my chin in one big hand and pulls me into a deep kiss. Is this the first time we’ve kissed for real? His lips are passionate and firm, and soon, I’m swooning again.
When we break, he strokes my petal-soft cheek.
“I’m Thomas, by the way.”
Our eyes meet in the darkness. The air between us vibrates.
“Andie,” I whisper, voice raw and ruined.
He grins, and it’s the first real smile I’ve ever seen on him. He kisses my cheek, then—casually, like it’s nothing—yanks my panties off my legs and slips them into his pocket.
“For the collection,” he smirks, and I feel a dizzy lurch of pride and embarrassment all at once.
I get up off his lap, and he stands, straightens his clothes a little, and then winks one last time before strolling down the aisle and re-taking his original seat.
I sit there for a moment, breathing hard as my heart races.
Oh my god, did that just happen? But it did.
I can feel his come leaking from me, the cold air prickling my thighs.
I pull on my jeans, smooth my shirt, and hunker down in the back row.
Nobody even notices what happened. The movie is still going, fists flying as superheroes engage in epic battle.
But inside, I’m a new woman.
I sit through the rest of the film, not even pretending to watch. All I can think about is Thomas—his hands, his mouth, the way he made me feel like something dangerous and alive. My asshole clenches, and a thrill runs down my spine. I’m forever changed … but I haven’t won the bet yet.