1. Yes


    Date: 3/8/2017, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: Verbal, Rating: 15, Source: LushStories

    the touching of the hands. Unfortunately I do not have a date for tonight. I am here by myself.” A brief glance down. She was taking a chance now, as he was. “I’m available,” he said. “Available for what?” she asked. An awkward silence opened between them, a silence that mercifully bloomed into laughter. He stepped up to the counter and ordered popcorn, no butter. “I hate that butter stuff,” he said to her. She grew excited. “I know! It’s not even butter! Look at the dispenser. ‘Golden Flavored.’ They aren’t even allowed to call it butter. Golden flavor. What does that even mean?” As she talked her eyes sought him out, as he sought hers. The melodic hum of the “r” and the “l.” It made him dizzy. “It’s not butter,” he said. “It’s oil. Butter flavored oil. It’s disgusting. And it gets all over your hands. They get all greasy.” “It is gross,” she agreed. “That thing you were talking about? The accidental touching of the hands? It would be so awful if the hand you touched had oil all over it. It would ruin the experience.” Her voice exhilarated him. He wanted her. The thrill of something foreign appearing in a place where all else was predictable. The recklessness of language. The pull of the unknown. He bowed slightly. “Will you allow me to be your date tonight?” She smiled a secret smile and said, “Yes.” It was the third time she had said it, maybe the fourth; he was having a difficult time keeping track. He was obsessed with the word, the way she spoke it. Yes. Yes. Yes. So ...
    fucking sexy. He was tempted to ask her name but then realized he’d rather not even know it. No names. They walked into the theater together, took their seats toward the center, where most of the other people were sitting. A few couples were farther out on the fringes of the crowd, on the sides, at the back. The lights dimmed. Before the first preview was over they had touched hands in the popcorn, as he knew they would. She took her fingertip and traced a line up his fingers, across his hand. She made direct eye contact with him, and he returned the gaze. His cock began to tingle. Take a chance, he told himself. You will regret it if you don’t. He put his hand lightly on the bare skin of her knee. He tried to think of something to say but words again failed him. He searched her face for a clue as to what would happen next. She closed her eyes. She smiled. “That’s feels nice,” she whispered, the whisper combining with her accent so sexily it seduced his cock into hardening. She settled slightly back into the padded cushion of her chair. “It is good you did not choose the greasy golden flavor,” she said, eyes still closed. She giggled. It was his turn to say, “Yes.” “The grease would not make it feel so nice.” “It would be gross?” he asked, mirroring her earlier words. “Yes.” She put her hand on top of his. She leaned in close to his ear. “What I never understood,” she purred, “is why guys think they need to make, how do you call it, small talk. Make up polite things to say. ...
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