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As always, I hope you enjoy this, especially with the leading ladies sorted out. Don’t forget, a vote and/or a comment from you is a good reward for us writers!
I was in the video store. Rows upon rows of DVDs confronted me. The covers all shouted, “Me me ME!” With guns blazing, cars burning, bodies everywhere, either dead or not wearing much. Faces stared at me, smirking, grim, terrified, laughing inanely. But I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I talked over the display to my sister.
“It figures. I’m eighteen at last, I’m in the video store, but can I find any decent R-rated movies? All I’ve found is the Saw series and this sexy vampire babe.” I held up the covers to show her.
With a swing of her ponytail she turned round and smiled. It was not my sister I was showing R-rated covers to, but a complete stranger. She squinted at the covers. One showed an aroused female vampire, the other a severed head. “I’d go for the vampire. Might be played for laughs more.”
I was very embarrassed. I was pretty shy as a rule, and I’d just shown a total stranger two pretty shoddy movies. I caught a glimpse of my sister in the distance, laughing. I could feel the flush in my face.
But the stranger took it all well. “When I turned eighteen, I came down here, but I couldn’t find anything worth watching either – that I couldn’t already watch. And y’know what? There are hardly any G-rated movies any more. Everything’s pushed up to PG these days. Either M or PG. I’ve got a theory about it. Disney wants us to watch nothing but Pixar movies, now they’ve bought them out. Well? And there HAS to be a connection with that awful popcorn they sell at the movies. And the size of those drinks? Why won’t they wash out when you spill them on your lap? Don’t I know you?”
The words tumbled out of her, one idea tripping over another. Then she stopped in mid-sentence, looked at my startled face, and burst out laughing.
“I’m so sorry! Sometimes the words… they just don’t stop! What were you saying? Choosing any movie is a nightmare usually.” She paused and took a breath. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Me too. I’m Sam – Samuel.”
“What?? That’s a bit weird. I’m Samantha. This could get awkward!”
But after what seemed a very short time, it wasn’t awkward at all. We had a surprising number of similar ideas about movies, like how tiresome so many sequels are. A remake is OK as long as it salutes the old version but also breaks new ground. Early Hitchcock is amazing. Alec Guinness gave Star Wars a spiritual level… luckily there was a coffee shop in the video store and my sister had other jobs to do.
We made a date. Just like that. To see a movie of course. Metropolis was showing at an art house not far away, and Sam had never seen it, surprisingly. “This will bend your mind.” I said. ” You will see how pretty well every science fiction movie since 1920 is borrowing from it.”
We saw it. Her mind was bent. At a café afterwards (there is nothing I like more than discussing a film after seeing it) we talked and talked. We connected several movies and themes, but spent most of our time on The Hunger Games.
Sam gave me some good insights too. “I knew Hunger Games was just Ancient Rome in the future. Gladiators, poisonings, conspiracies ‘n’ stuff. But wow, it should have Fritz Lang as one of the co-writers.”
It was fantastic. We went to a movie once or twice a week. We loved or hated them, we talked about them, we referenced them. We went to see Moulin Rouge and sang along to far too many of the songs. We connected. We “clicked”.
Then we saw Casablanca. Humphrey Bogart said “Play it Sam” (not “Play it again Sam”, please!) and we looked at each other and laughed. When Ingrid Bergman stared into Bogie’s face with those shining eyes and perfect nose… Sam clutched my hand.
At the end, with the stirring music still playing, Sam was still holding my hand. She looked across at me, her eyes shining, then leant over and kissed me. Just like that. In fact it was long and sweet, not quite unexpected, a kind of natural step up. I put my hand behind her head.
When we came out of it I couldn’t help myself. “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.” I said, and she hit me.
At coffee afterwards we were not nearly as talkative as usual. We were lost in our own thoughts – I was reeling in mine. I’d never noticed before, that Casablanca is quite sexy as well as romantic. Bergman and Bogart had put an intensity into the movie that I had missed for some reason. Sam was looking down, staring at her coffee and stirring it too much.
The next couple of movies were back in the old way, with Sam being just fractionally more reserved. It was as if she was about to say something, but holding back.
If Bergman were not enough, Lauren Bacall stepped into our affairs. Watching Key Largo, I could sense a passion rising in Sam. There was a close-up of Lauren’s exquisite face, in soft focus, eyes moist, the off-screen lover overlapping with the Kurtköy Escort on-screen character. Some raw impulse had me wanting Sam’s lips again and I reached my hand over to her cheek – we had never touched during a film before. I wanted to turn her face to me when I noticed her blouse. It had come open and I had a beautiful view of the soft curve of her breast below subtle collarbones. I had a surge of feelings: desire, tenderness, apprehension of beauty, sheer naughtiness…
Sam noticed my hesitation, she turned to me just as I moved my hand again. My hand slipped off her cheek onto the smooth skin of her chest. I felt collarbone, then soft, giving flesh, so unlike my own wiry body. The surge in me doubled.
It was probably one second, but felt forever. I moved my hand away and an amazing thing happened.
Sam’s hand shot up, and held mine against her chest. Now I could feel her breathing, faster than normal. She stared into my face in the flickering light of a black and white movie. Daringly I pushed my hand further in, working under a bra strap and finding the creases of her armpit. For me, this was outrageous enough, there was no way I’d dare to go lower down.
After the movie, we sat in the café, in silence. My thoughts crashed between wow, that was amazing, she liked it (I think, didn’t she?); and wow, that was unforgivable, I have have just ruined a rare friendship. Sam sat with head down.
Finally she spoke. “Buy me a drink, please.” A whisper, really.
The café had a bar, so I went over, and got stuck. A drink of what? What on earth do you get for this situation? A couple of beers? I don’t think so. Spirits? Those awful vodka-cordials with fluorescent colours? I saw a square bottle high on the shelf behind the barman. That’s the one.
Back at the table, Sam eyed the tiny glasses dubiously. “Water?”
“It’s Cointreau. Orange liqueur. Quite strong, but very special.”
Thankfully, she liked it. I sipped from my own glass, feeling the alcohol’s warmth and inhaling the complex aromas of the drink.
Abruptly she took a big sip and sat up straight with her eyes closed. Two tears rolled down her cheeks. She took a big breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m so confused. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m thinking. I have to talk – I have to say this. You’ve been so good to me, so good for me, I need to try and explain. My feelings, they’re crazy. My thoughts won’t keep still. I keep thinking of your lips, your touch. This Cointreau is good!” All in one breath, I think.
“You are so special. I look forward to our nights like you would not believe. I’ve tried so hard not to wreck this friendship, but… something keeps growing in me. That kiss – I’ve dreamt about that kiss. I put my hand on my neck where you touched me, I try and imagine the whole thing, again and again.
“Now this! Tonight, you touched me and I was on fire. You touched me under my clothes. Let me tell you something I’ve never told another soul.
“For years I’ve had this fantasy. I’m sitting in a darkened cinema. It’s different movies, but all ones i like. I’m loving the movie, I’m all stirred up, and a man sitting beside me, a stranger, touches me. He fondles me. Sometimes he just slides a hand along my thigh. Sometimes he undoes my blouse, sometimes he pulls my boobs out. I feel the cool air on my nipples, or his hands rolling them in his fingertips.
“Sometimes he’s rough, other times he’s very suave. Always he has a power over me. Sometimes he takes my hand and I feel how hard he is. A few times I’ve taken his dick out…
“Am I crazy? I don’t know. I’ve looked at lots of guys in cinemas and thought, sheesh, not in a million years buster. In real life I know it would be humiliating – and dangerous. But I have this fantasy. It’s so strong. And now you!
“You did it! You were the fantasy, in real life! My best friend, has touched me just like in the dream. Only it was so much better than a dream! My skin felt like it was glowing. I felt dizzy, I thought I might faint. God, I’m thinking of it now and my hands are shaking.
“Umm, can we do it again?”
A silence hung between us. She was expectant, I was astonished. And a little excited. I wasn’t sure what to say. I took too long: she put her hands up to her face and sobbed.
“Oh God I’ve spoilt everything haven’t I. You must think I’m sick…” She tried to silence her crying.
My lovely, crazy Sam in such distress – I had to act. I put a hand out over one of her hands, then had an absolute inspiration. I could save this.
I composed myself. I put on the most neutral face I could manage, the face of a stranger. I stretched my other hand out, under the hands covering her face. I found her chest.
With two fingers I stroked her neck and collarbone. She froze. She looked at me, her turn to be astonished. With my stranger’s face I looked back. In an instant she was changed. I gently stroked the soft skin while looking over her shoulder, not even at her. We were Pendik Escort in the fantasy. Just like that.
Still without eye contact, I let my hand fall down to her blouse, and undid one button.
Then I brought my hand back and put it on the table. The café was not at all busy and no one had noticed, but still it was a public place. I put on my normal face and smiled at her.
The tears stopped. A jumble of emotions went across her face. Arousal, shock, desire, delight, relief, wonder all slipped in and out of view. Then a realisation. I was still there, still interested, still in love.
That was it for me. I realised I loved this person. I was attracted to her (like crazy), but as well as that I cared. I loved Sam.
(Maybe now I’ll pick up the sexiness in Casablanca.)
I realised too, like a curtain opening, what beauty was. We watched movie stars galore, with their flawless skin and perfect hair, with soft focus and gentle lighting, but that was just glamour. The guys had solid jaws and stern looks. We weren’t glamorous, we were nothing special to look at. I was skinny and gangly, Sam was just a bit chubby and kept her hair in a ponytail or else it looked like she’d just got up. But her face aglow with pleasure, the lift of her eyes, the twinkle in them, the smile on her lips and in her cheeks, that was beauty. I won’t mix up the fake one and the real one again.
So we began our game.
Sam would go into the cinema early and sit a little way apart from the other customers. I would come in later, ideally when the lights were down. I would sit beside her, but make no contact. After a time I would shift in my seat and “accidentally” brush her knee, but leave my hand there. Every time we started I would hear an intake of breath. She tried but she could never hide her excitement.
I might run a hand down her calf, or more commonly up and down her thigh. Sam kindly wore dresses to make the task easier. She tried not to squirm with the pleasure of it all. If I chose to approach higher up, I might stroke a finger down her neck, or undo a button and place a hand on her chest. I always got a thrill from feeling her breathing intensify with my intrusions.
One evening I was running the backs of my fingers up the length of her cool thighs. I turned my hand as I stroked the side and it went further than usual. I met the elastic of her panties. It was like touching a live wire. A surge of desire went through me, stiffening my cock in my pants. At the same time Sam felt something similar as she almost lifted herself off the seat. I wriggled a hand under the fabric and tugged and teased at it. Sam let out a slight whimper.
On the way to the café, we often gave ourselves a kiss in a darkened doorway (we were such old-movie tragics). That night, it was especially good; close and lingering.
I became bolder. One evening I sat behind Sam. I slipped a hand between the seats, over her shoulder and started undoing the buttons of her blouse. She stared ahead (it was a Hitchcock thriller) as I pulled her blouse apart and exposed her soft, full breasts in their bra. With her chest heaving I ran my hand over the curve of the breast, feeling the nipple harden to my touch.
The next time I sat beside her but “accidentally” dropped something. Crouched below the seat, I ran my hand up under her shirt. As always she gasped, but this time I had really caught her off-guard. I tugged and pulled at the buttons to open the shirt, while she fixed her eyes on the screen. She was wearing a purple bra, but I didn’t stop there. I pulled the fabric down so that one then the other big breast rolled out. Her nipples naturally point down slightly and they were now both aiming at me. I will always remember the sight of her face and her rising and falling chest, lit by the flickering screen, above those beautiful round boobs. How we weren’t caught or reported for indecency I’ll never know.
The vision came back to me that night as I lay in my bed. My hand found its way down to my cock And I gave myself a wonderful orgasm recalling – and extending – the event.
I know the games read like I’m some dirty old creep violating an attractive young woman, and we smile about them now, but they really were just a game. After the movie we always sat and chatted cheerfully and endlessly, about the film but also about everything else: attitudes, friends, parents, work.
Then, that special night. We met in town, but she had a DVD. The Decameron by Pasolini. It’s a string of amusing stories, set in medieval Italy. In Italian. Yeah, not everyone’s cup of tea, but the sexy ones are pretty sexy. And Pasolini doesn’t have the Hollywood fear of penises: you get to see a few, in a very natural way.
“We’re going back to my place tonight. Tonight’s the night.”
We’d talked about sex a bit – I knew her mother was very supportive of her giving herself “to the right guy”, and we dared each other to describe our fantasies. But it was only talk. I really didn’t put Mutlukent Escort myself up as “the right guy”. Our fantasy games were separate to the real thing. In fact, Sam was almost never in my mind when I jerked off: her friendship was just too special. So her change of tonight’s plans startled me.
On the way home I heard that her father was away on a work trip again. Mum was going out for the evening and seemed to know what might be about to happen. Sam got on really well with both; the few times I’d met them at pick-ups and drop-offs I could see why.
At her house. A compact two-storey town house, brick, with living areas downstairs and bedrooms upstairs. The lounge and kitchen/dining area were one large space. A couch was sort of in the middle, dividing it. A flat-screen TV was against one wall. Sam went over to the DVD player and dropped the disc in.
“Can you get me a drink?” she said simply as she flopped onto the couch.
On the kitchen counter were two small glasses and a square bottle. I had to smile. Lovely Sam, with Cointreau, I like the way you’re thinking.
As I came over to the couch from behind, I was flooded with the memory of our time when I sat behind her in the cinema. I stood looking down at her and had a similar view to that first one, that triggered our whole mad escapade. More memories tumbled out. Something powerful came over me and seemed to guide every move.
Putting the bottle on the couch, I gave her a glass of Cointreau and gently took the remote out of her hand. I skipped over the movie to a point near the end, a story of two young lovers who sleep together on the roof of their house. I left it to play. I gave myself a generous sip of my drink. “Watch the movie.” I commanded.
Immediately she took in a breath and I recognised the change. I put down my glass and stroked both of her shoulders she rolled them and sighed in response. I rubbed her shoulder muscles and felt them ease. She rocked her head from one side to the other. I moved down.
She was wearing a simple blouse. With my arms around her I undid one button after another, exposing the soft skin of her chest. Her breasts were held up and together by that purple bra, leaving a dark cleft between.
Without the advantage of the angle, I had to be careful this time. I gently eased each breast out so I could enjoy their size and shape better. I caressed them in turn, rolling each nipple in my fingers. The areolas would harden to my touch, pushing each pink nipple out. Sam breathed heavily, but stared ahead. I kissed and nibbled her neck, causing her breath to catch.
Still from behind, I lightly pushed her forward. When she complied I pulled her blouse down and off, then undid her bra, tugging off the shoulder straps so she could shake her arms out of it. Her boobs naturally separated And I could easily run my palms up and down over the nipples. Sam started to squirm in her seat. That seemed like a prompt to go further.
More to one side now, I ran my hand over her soft tummy and down to her pants. I undid the button and the zipper and felt the warmth rising up from her. She levered herself up and wriggled the pants down to give me easier access. I felt sparse curls over a soft pad of skin. Further in, the beginning of a cleft. I could faintly smell the scent of her arousal. She rolled her hips as if to welcome me.
All this was fantastic, but a strain on my virgin member. I snuck a hand in to straighten it inside my own pants. Sam noticed me and whispered, “Take it out.”
“Oh Sam, you and your boobs, they’re enough to make me come already!” I was becoming anxious this was too much excitement.
“Take it out! Let me see! Let me see your stiff cock!”
She pulled me round the couch and eagerly undid my belt and jeans. My cock leapt out, bobbing and swinging, a smear of precum already across the tip. Sam’s half-down pants had made her stumble and she was now kneeling in front of my raging shaft. I prodded her breasts with it. She grabbed it and pulled the skin up and down the shaft. I groaned.
“Oh Sam, that’s too much. I’m gonna–“
“Yes! Come on me! Come on my tits! Come!” Sam was urgent. She hurriedly stroked up and down. She cradled her breasts around it and rubbed them along the shaft. That did it.
My whole body shuddered. Peeping between the luscious flesh, my cock spurted onto her chest. Shiny come splashed out, up to her neck, even a bit on her chin. I had trouble breathing now, while Sam just made little “oh” noises. My leg muscles seemed to lock up. My balls were against her boobs. I felt dizzy.
We looked down at it together. My softening cock was awash with come, lying in a channel made by her breasts pressed together. Her skin shone with my semen. Tiny drops were in my hairs. We couldn’t believe it.
“Did we do that?” Sam started, “Did I do that? I can’t believe… I’m a virgin, this is the first real cock I’ve ever seen and I’ve made it come all over my tits. You’re still dressed! What are we doing? What–?”
I hushed her with a finger on her lips. “I love you. I love you, and thank you. It felt fantastic. But let’s do this properly.” I was surprising myself at how much I was leading this. Probably because I didn’t believe any of it was actually happening.
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