"Can I meet you somewhere. Somewhere public, but alone? Maybe go to a movie?" I'm unsure, but decide we'll give it a try. I'm sitting in the next to last row, far right side, right where we planned, and the movie has just started when you slide in and sit next to me.

I've got a jacket on my lap, and the theater is pretty empty. Perhaps only a dozen people scattered in the darkness. We look straight ahead. It is so warm and comforting to be sitting next to you, but somehow we're both a little edgy, unsure, nervous.

Ten minutes later you are holding my hand, slipped cautiously under my jacket so no one notices. I have no idea about the movie. We're both enjoying running our thumbs around the others hand.

I need you to learn every contour of my hands, my freshly manicured nails, each graceful finger, the warmth of my palms, the gentle squeeze I am responding to, everything. There are little spots in front of my eyes, and my breathing is deeper than usual. I haven't felt like this in . . . years? Yes, years. And we lean a little closer together. The smell of my hair excites you. Our hands joined, resting on my thigh excites you. You excite me and I excite you. Half an hour later I release your hand, and smooth it, palm down on my thigh.

I slowly place my hand on your thigh, and begin to gently scratch the fabric of your pants leg, and sort of 'explore' your upper thigh, searching for a reaction, perhaps even searching for arousal. You squeeze my thigh with your hand, and feel the warmth of my flesh through the thin cotton slacks. My hand has slid to the inside of your thigh, and I have let it rest right on the spot where I can feel your shaft begin to thicken and lengthen.

I move my fingers just slightly, and sense the ridge just below the head. A gentle, playful pinch, and I am amazed at the rapidity of the reaction beneath the fabric. I explore the full length of you, stimulate slightly, and squeeze you with my full hand. My thumb makes small gentle circles around the head. Then my hand is still, waiting for reaction. You fidget slightly, and give me a reasurring 'Mmmmmmmmm.

' Slowly my hand moves back and forth while gripping your shaft.

I'm estimating the thickness, the length, the shape, and search for details. I tickle you with my fingernails, scratching and tapping gently.

I lean my head toward you, and blow my warm breath gently on your neck.

And I know that I have you now! The scratching, stroking and fondling continues. Your hand goes to my knee, still under my jacket. My strokes continue, more rapid, and more lightly. And then I feel movement through the fabric.

I see you uneasily change positions.

Your neck twists, your back arches, and I flatten my hand, and press down on the firm bulge, and then I am still.

You're too soon, I'm too late! I feel you grab my knee, stifling a gasp, and I feel the spasms beneath my hand. I feel the warm wet spot growing beneath my thumb. You turn to look at my smiling profile, lighted by the movie screen, and I hear you whisper "Oh, Sherry! Oh...you're good!" I swirl my fingertips, spreading the warm wet slipperiness.

I squeeze you, sensing every last twitch and pump. I feel your legs and hips relax and you melt gently into your seat. "Oh my god, Sherry! Oh my god." The wet spot grows bigger, the twitching subsides. The breathing is deep for both of us.

My hand rests firmly over your length, holding me firmly. 'That was easy. He was quick. Did I really excite him that much?' I wonder? 'Now, if he's a typical guy, he will fall asleep, or get up and shake my hand and go home, or just watch the movie and pretend it is a football game.' But no. I feel your hand on my knee, kneading and caressing each little curve, each little tendon. You gently work your hand upward, along my thigh. I slowly spread my legs, and wriggle down into the seat, pushing my butt forward. My knees are about a foot apart.

You are encouraged by this action, and slide your hand farther up.

You have your hand on top of my thigh, stroking my muscles, feeling the smooth skin, slowly working your way toward pleasure and excitement. Your hand comes to rest gently covering my mound, the divine triangle of my pleasure. I spread and re-arrange my coat over my lap, over your hand. 'Pop' I feel the button of my slacks unfasten.

My body quivers with excitement and a little uncertainty. The zipper makes a soft noise as you slide it down, and gently slip your hand into the open space. 'NO PANTIES! She's not wearing panties!' I smile as I now know that you know.

You can't resist - your hand slides across to my softness.

Bare and open. 'She's shaved it!' You almost snort with arousal.

Bare, smooth as an egg, warm, soft, and begging for stimulation. I've shaved it. For you.

I'm smiling inside. Your warm hand rests on my divine little package. So warm, so ready. Your thumb and middle finger spread my lips, your index finger dips, seeks, strokes. I shudder. I'm certainly going to be quicker than you were. You find my wet spot again, slide in, slide out, stroke my tender inner lips, flick my firming personal place.

I lift my butt, flexing my hips and thighs, giving you more encouragement than you need. And you can't ignore the signal. The stimulation continues, stroking my thighs, running my slipperiness into every curve and fold, using the gentle tip of your finger to tickle my personal place with barely perceptible pressures. My knees lift up, and my thighs part a little more. I put the corner of my purse between my teeth, and bite firmly as the sensation sweeps over me.

Holding my hands to my face, and arching my back, I fight for silence and to control my breathing.

It is an exquisite orgasm, full and wet. I swear I can almost hear the kissing sucking sounds of my wet flesh reacting involuntarily. My eyes blur, my legs shake, and I am spent.

We sit quietly through the rest of the movie, each in our own wet spot, wondering how we'll get out of this without being noticed by anyone else. It only seems kinky the first time.