Spilled Popcorn--An MJ Erotica

I’m quite certain that everyone in the television-viewing world has at least heard of, if not seen, Michael Jackson’s groundbreaking music film, Thriller. A video which starts as a horror movie on a theatre screen, followed by Michael walking his “girlfriend” home through a spooky neighborhood. (Really, who the hell skips past a cemetery?) But in watching the video, it seems there’s always something missing. Michael never kisses the “girlfriend” or fools around or anything that one would expect to see happen on a date. With that idea in mind, I decided to craft my grown-up version of the video. And it will knock every last curl out of Michael’s head!

“Spilled Popcorn”

A Michael Jackson Erotica By:

MJsLoveSlave



Romaneck, New York
Early Summer, 1984
It was a warm, humid and peaceful night in the middle of July.
All outside of the Esquire Theatre, a grand old movie palace that had seen its heyday some fifty years earlier, stood stark and silent, rising up like a glittering gem amongst all of the bare road surrounding it.
It’s many-bulbed façade and lighted marquees offered the only source of illumination for about a mile in any direction.
The box office, once bustling with life and constant cha-ching of the cash register as patrons purchased admittance to various films being screened, now stood empty as did the sidewalk.
The sidewalk was empty, save for a lone couple.
Partially masked by the shadows as they stood just around the corner of the building, was a young man and young woman, embraced as most young lovers did do in such circumstances.
A tangle hotly connected mouths they were, the man’s leather jacket draped around the woman’s shoulders, him gripping the front to keep her close to him.
Every so often, the two would break and stare longingly into each other’s eyes, a brief, cheerful smile would crease their attractive faces and once again, the kissing would start up, just as intense as though it were the first one ever shared betwixt the two.
But that wouldn’t be too far off the mark. Their very first kiss had occurred only a few hours before…
Earlier That Same Day
Bethany Carver always kept her friends waiting.
No matter what they were doing, whether it was catching a train into the city, or trying to rush off to classes at the local community college, Bethany had an innate knack for lateness.
And today was no exception.
While young Bethany was up in her boudoir, doing what, was anyone’s guess, her two, long-suffering best friends were decorating the floral couch in her living room.
Ivorie Dunsmore and Lacey Meraux couldn’t have been more different from one another if they had tried and only spoke to the diversity Bethany liked having in companions.
Ivorie, a tall, athletic sort, lounged on one end of the couch, feet propped up o the low, oak coffee table. She was dressed comfortably in a Run DMC tee, black jeans and in tribute to her favorite rap group, bright red Addidas sneakers.
She wore no make up, save for a glossed red mouth the same shade as her shoes. Her eyes were hidden by dark shades. Her hair was just as unfussy, in a sleek bob that hugged her face.
She was the epitome of b-girl ease.
On the opposite end of the couch, Lacey looked like a bundle of cotton candy.
Pink was this girl’s color and boy howdy, did she own it like that pipsqueak Prince owned purple.
Lacey sat, legs crossed, in a light pink shirt dress, with “Barbie” emblazoned on the front in baby blue, rhinestone adorned letters. A double blue belt cinched her waist and matched the blue pumps on her feet.
Her hair, bleached blonde, and streaked with more of that infernal pink, fell straight down her back, held back by a pink headband and much like a real Barbie doll, she had flicked, waved bangs falling into her hazel eyes.
A loud, aggravated sigh escaped Lacey, breaking the silence in the room, as she reached into her small leather clutch and removed a thin pink cigarette and gem-crusted lighter.
Poking the cancer stick in her mouth and setting it aflame, she took her time to inhale and puff out a plume of smoke, before questioning,
“Ivorie, how the hell did we get talked into this? Just how the hell did we?”
Tilting her shades to revealing dark eyes filled with amusement, Ivorie replied knowingly,
“We brought this on ourselves Lace. We should never have convinced Bethany to go see Friday the 13^th: The Final Chapter.--”
“But it wasn’t even that scary, damn it!” Lacey groaned, smoke coming from her mouth and nose as she spoke. “You could even see the boom mic in one scene!”
Shaking her head, Ivorie grinned, “That doesn’t matter; Bethany couldn’t sleep for a week, scared to death Freddy Krueger was gonna slice her to ribbons in her sleep. Never seen one girl drink so much coffee to stay awake. Looked like a zombie. We owe her!”
“Yeah…” Lacey, still not fully convinced nodded and flicked her ashes into a small glass ashtray on a side table.
“The least we can do is go to the film festival she invited us to. And besides, we get in free since Bethany’s grandfather owns the theatre.
Mashing out the butt, Lacey exclaimed, “But who wants to go see some old Vincent Price movies? Isn’t he dead?”
(Author’s Note: Vincent Price lived until 1993.)
Ivorie giggled and pointed out, “Well, he is kind of cool. Don’t you remember he did the rap in that guy’s song? The skinny one that used to sing in the group with a bunch of his brothers--I forget his name.”
“Whatever!” Lacey scoffed and went to grab another cigarette.
“One of these days you’re gonna curl up and die of lung cancer, sucking on those nasty things!” A new voice cackled, causing both of the young women to look up.
Miracle of miracles, Bethany Carver was finally gracing them with her tardy presence.
Bethany, pausing at a framed mirror near the door to the living room, was giving herself a once over.
Bethany, was an attractive girl, of an average height with a womanly figure, at the moment, draped in a fun outfit consisting of a black and white zebra print denim miniskirt and matching jacket, over white tank top bodysuit. To offset it, small, white leather, lace up booties concealed her feet.
Sliver bangles lined her arms and hoops peeked out from under her, meticulously curled black hair that circled her head like a large halo.
For such a simple and mundane outing, Bethany had expertly applied quite a lot of make up, her dark eyes exaggerated by thick, winged black liner and glittery silver shadow, heavy on the mauve blush and frosted fuchsia lipstick.
“Great guns, what the hell are you made up for? Cyndi Lauper called and wants her face back!” Lacey tittered as she and Ivorie rose, giving their friend polite hugs.
Bethany could have easily pointed out that Lacey could have given that eleven-inch, vinyl doll her face back too, but only grinned, used to the ribbing she received.
Bethany was the type who painted in an extreme face, just to check the mailbox.
Instead, she slipped her arms through those of her friends and snickered,
“Let’s go, the festival starts in less than an hour. And I want to have claimed my seat to see my favorites: House of Wax, House on Haunted Hill, The Tingler, and the House of Usher.”
“Let’s go? Now you‘re in a rush!” Ivorie snorted as the trio headed for the door, “Girl, we were waiting on you forever…”
* * *
The Esquire Theatre stood in the middle of a road that had once been the entertainment district of Romaneck. On a street that have once been packed with playhouses, acting schools, dancing academies and a photography studio in days of yore, only the Esquire remained, surrounded by a dull, concrete parking lot.
Painstakingly restored over a ten year period by Bethany’s grandfather, Jim, it had flourished once again in all of its Art Deco splendor.
Built in the early 1930s and heavily influenced by Grauman’s Egyptian Theatre in California, it was a grand piece of opulence and pride for the small town.
(Author’s Note: The Egyptian Theatre is real, Wiki/Google it!)
A massive and imposing structure it was, the entrance to it designed to look like something that should have been placed along The River Nile.
Perched high above a set of heavy wooden doors, on a pair of columns, sculpted busts of the Pharaoh Ramses, looked down on all who set foot over the threshold of the Esquire.
The façade of the building was covered in murals, mimicking ancient hieroglyphics.
In between more stylized columns, vintage film posters, all featuring Vincent Price--in his younger years-- hung proudly.
It seemed the festival was to be a success; a line at least a hundred deep, stretched from the indoor box office, out the open doors and curled around the building, ending in the parking lot.
A few people even went so far as to copy some of Mr. Price’s costumes from their chosen films.
It was a line that, as practically owner of the theater herself, Bethany could skip, and as she slipped from Ivorie’s lilac Jeep Wrangler, the three young women breezed on past the patrons and into the expansive lobby.
(Bethany and her friends hadn’t paid admittance to a film since 1979!)
Inside the lobby, that stood gilded and featuring golden sarcophaguses, and larger than life-sized statues of scarabs, the girls made their way towards the glimmering snack counter, where a few people were placing their orders.
It was certainly a fancy place in which to while away a day.
It was the sort of place, that when it first opened, men wore suits and women wore fancy dresses and little white gloves.
Now customers lounged in jeans and shorts and one man was even topless, a scarf knotted at his throat, in these here socially lax eighties.
Turning around to face Lacey and Ivorie, and walking backwards, Bethany started to instruct,
“Alright you guys, make sure you stock up well. You don’t want to miss a single minute of any of the films. Spine-tingling without being a gory mess. Get large everything. So you don’t have to make trips back; lots of candy--Oop!”
Bethany’s nagging speech was cut short as she plowed into someone, and freshly buttered kernels of warm popcorn landed at her feet and onto the tops of her shoes.
Whirling around to give the poor soul who’d dare run into her a piece of her mind--though she was the cause of the collision--Bethany’s scowling face went plain in wonderment in under a second.
Standing before her, brushing spilled kernels from the front of his chest, was a young man.
A young man so stunning that Bethany forgot to breathe.
What a beautiful sight he was.
He was tall, taller than any of the girls, and quite slim.
A slim figure displaying bright red ankle trousers and a tee, over which a red and black leather jacket, with a wide, inverted-triangle yoke, though it was over ninety degrees in the shade.
But this guy gave off an aura that was so cool, he didn’t have to obey and dress according to the weather.
He possessed a strong, angular, and smooth face, with the barest trace of a mustache attempting to grow in above his thin upper lip.
His hair was a well tended head of glossed, sparkling Jherri Kurls, the blackest black Bethany could recall seeing on a person’s mane.
His nose was trim and sleek and above them, large, dark, deep set eyes were lined lightly in black.
Dark eyes full of concern and remorse as they searched Bethany’s face.
“Pardon me, I should have watched where I was going. I didn’t get any popcorn grease on you, did I?”
His voice was so soft and tender like cotton balls in her ears, and so boyishly good-looking he was.
And he was so polite, most other guys would have cursed at Bethany and risked getting socked in the nose, but he was apologizing for her gaff!
Instantly smitten with this adorable man-child looking creature, Bethany shook her head and commented airily,
“No, I’m alright.”
Seeing nothing was a miss, the man gave a crooked half-smile, and proceeded back to the counter to get his popcorn tub refilled, never once causing a stir about what had been knocked out his hands. Or demanding that Bethany reimburse him.
Bethany lingered a moment, admiring him from behind; his small, slim backside was encased so wonderfully in those pants.
They were practically painted on. Why if she looked hard enough, she could make out the crack in his--
“Move Beth!” Lacey gave her friend a swift shove from behind, towards another server at the concession stand.
“He ain’t on the menu! And they just put some more M&Ms in the window, I want a couple of bags! Quit boring holes in his back with your eyes! Who the hell wears leather in the summer anyways?”
Grimacing as Lacey passed her by and rushed the counter followed by Ivorie, Bethany looked up in time to see the mysterious young man sauntering away, towards the theatre.
He may not have been an overpriced treat on the menu, but he was causing Bethany Carver’s mouth to water just the same.
Oh, their paths would cross again…Bethany was certain of it. More certain of it than anything else she’d ever been certain of in life.
* * *
“…let’s all go to the lobby…to get ourselves a treat…”
Bethany, following behind Lacey, who was in turn following Ivorie into the packed theatre, had her arms loaded with a large tub of buttered, sweet kettle corn, several bags of M&Ms--Lacey had purchased ten of them for herself--assorted other tooth-rottening candies and a huge cup of Diet Pepsi. (To help maintain her girlish figure.)
“I can’t believe so many people came out to see these movies!” Lacey, in a loud whisper proclaimed as Ivorie finally located some empty seats about five rows from the screen and began inching towards the middle of the row.
In a screening room that seated no less than two hundred people, finding a place was almost impossible.
Plopping down on the other side of Lacey, Bethany took a moment to sigh dreamily at the plush, real red velvet seat containing her.
Leaning back and staring up at the ceiling was looking onto the bottom of Heaven.
Above all the patrons, an ornate and intricate, starburst, plated in twenty-karat yellow gold and flanked by fanciful Greek key designed stood out against it’s darker green and saturated blue motifs of more hieroglyphics that rimmed the edges of the ceiling.
Just like outside, columns ran the perimeter of the room, plated with more gold and in the back, up above the rows and rows of seat, were four private viewing balconies, both flanking the projection room, the velvet curtains on all four drawn closed.
Pulling her head back forward and taking a sip of soda, she stared forwards towards the screen.
In front of her and all the people still flooding for a spot, was the hallmark of the entire viewing room--the screen.
It’s velvet drapes parted, it was book-ended by glded concrete made to look like the pyramids of Egypt, with more dancing figures of kings and queens of ancient painted onto them.
Above the screen was a bright gold, and multicolored enameled crest featuring crests, scarabs, pyramids, roses and tiny sarcophaguses, it was an piece that took two years by itself to be restored to it’s former splendor.
Yes, this was the perfect sort of place to enjoy Vincent Price, and for a moment, she forgot all about the man in red, whom had spilled popcorn on her.
That was, until the lights overhead began to dim and the coming attractions started to flicker across the screen.
Lacey, crunching on those damned M&M’s elbowed her in the ribs.
“Your boyfriend’s sitting over there…” She whispered and Ivorie, biting into a licorice whip nearly choked on it, she giggled so hard.
In spite of herself, Bethany turned away from the screen, as the open credits to House of Wax started, squinting through the dimness.
Only four empty seats away, sitting next to the aisle, was the mysterious man in red.
He appeared to be alone, quietly sitting and staring up at the screen intently, tub of popcorn in his lap, a small soda balanced on the armrest, and unwrapping a Charleston Chew.
As he bit into it, Bethany warmed, thinking of how handsome he was, well, not handsome. He was more pretty than anything. There was that androgyny in him, and he was more pretty than handsome to her.
He had been so incredibly sweet and charming, in the few words he spoke to her.
Especially those big brown puppy-like eyes, the way they had sparkled just right when he had looked upon her.
Did he like her? She liked him--
“Hey, Beth!” Ivorie’s whisper broke her train of thought. “The movie’s on the screen, not that scrawny bit of nothing’s face!”
Coldly, Bethany turned back to her friends, both grinning broadly and smugly at her.
So cool, ice chips flew from her, Bethany retorted,
“He can’t help it if God gave him a nice face.”
Lacey cackled so loudly, a few people turned and gave her a disapproving stare.
Pushing her shades up on top of her head, Ivories rolled her serious eyes,
“Do you wanna watch the movie you dragged us to, or make time with that guy?”
Bethany, who didn’t want to admit that she would have preferred to be closer to that man, kept her mouth shut and turning towards the screen, amidst knowing snickers, settled in to watch House of Wax.
Bethany found that no matter how hard she tried, how desperately she paid attention to the film, she couldn’t enjoy it.
Every few moments, she kept glancing over at the man in red. Marveling at his beauty, at how graceful he appeared, even when shoving popcorn into his mouth like he’d never taste it again in life.
Never once did he look anywhere but up at the screen, seeming transfixed by theatrical stylings of Vincent Price.
From time to time, he mouthed the lines, in between his chomping.
But he never noticed her and seemed to be in his own world of 1950s horror, unable to be budged from it.
His empty drink cup laid on its side.
When the film was half over, Bethany could no longer stand it.
She had to express her interest in this man before she screamed a thousand swear words in her angst and hormone fueled rage.
Bethany began to rise.
“Where ya goin‘ Bethany?” Lacey and Ivorie inquired in unison, those stupid grins on their faces again.
Had they been waiting for her to move all this time?
“None ya damn business!”
As she inched down the row and drawing closer and closer to the mysterious man in red. And with every inch, her mind burned through hundreds of scenarios, ways to get his attention. Something. Anything!
“Excuse me…” Bethany was barely audible as she passed in front of him.
And fate intervened.
She never noticed his long feet and as her white boot bumped his black penny loafer, Bethany lost her balance and found herself in the man’s lap, an arm slung around his thin neck.
What she did notice was that his warm, supple hands were gripping her waist, in an effort to keep her from tumbling to the floor.
He was holding her! She could have swooned away right there.
For the first time, his eyes left the screen and were directed on her.
And for a long, silent, tender moment, the two stared directly at each other.
That was, before Bethany managed to spit out something witty.
“We’ve got to quit meeting like this; one of us will end up in the hospital.”
In the darkness, he smiled.
A sweet, glowing, bright white smile and those sparkly eyes danced in his head.
Getting to her feet, Bethany took the time to run her hand beneath his collar, her fingertips brushing the flesh on the back of his neck--dampened with activator juice--and left him, headed for the lobby.
Once in the lobby, she collapsed on a small, tufted bench just outside the doors to the theatre and held her head in her hands.
Trying to make sense, if any, of just what she was doing? Flirting with a man who seemed so intent on watching the films.
She didn’t want to spoil his experience just because she couldn’t control her actions.
It was paying patrons like him that put money in her grandfather’s pockets! And repeat patrons that produced profits. She did care about her grandfather…
Was he merely being polite or was there more to it?
As Bethany continued to beat herself up for a few moments, every pulsing thought in her mind came to a crashing halt when she noticed something.
In front of her white booties, a pair of patent leather, glistening, black penny loafers had appeared.
Eyes going up, her mouth parted in a semi-daze.
Standing over her, twiddling his thumbs, was the mysterious man in red.
Again he wasn’t looking at her, but down at his feet.
“You’ve bumped me twice, and the second time, you…you touched me as you left…I don’t know…was I supposed to follow you out here? My name is Michael…”
Why, he was too adorable for words!
Standing up and gripping his hand, it was so smooth and soft, the fiery girl replied,
“My name’s Bethany. I wasn’t sure if you’d follow or not, but I’m certainly glad you did.”
A shy timorous chuckle left Michael and his fine brows flexed.
Eyes widening, Michael wondered,
“What do you we do now…you want to go back and finish the films?”
Bethany so hot all over, she should have combusted at least ten times by now. She knew sitting in the theatre next to Michael would have been a waste. She could barely see straight right then.
She needed Michael, and needed him yesterday, last month, last year, hell at the turn of the century!
Her own eyes sparking and lashes flapping so they created a breeze, she inquired lustily,
“Do you really want to watch the films?”
Biting his bottom lip in the sexiest little way, Michael shook his head,
“If I’m being forward--”
“You’re not.” Bethany replied, a bit more curtly than she intended. “It’s 1984, not the Dark Ages. Nineteen eighty-four. When I see something I want, I take it.”
Gripping Michael’s hand tighter, Bethany led him across the lobby towards a closed door, leading up to one of the balconies.
Stooping and she fished a key out of a low urn shaped like a cat on the floor.
“Grampa stopped leaving the balconies open after people would sneak up there and watch movies without paying.” She explained matter-of-factly, opening the door and carelessly tossing the key back into its pot.
Eyes growing again, it was Michael’s turn to be awed.
“You own all this?”
“One day I will.” Bethany winked at him and stepped up onto the darkened stairwell, the only light at the moment coming from the cracked door.
He was hugging her.
As soon as they got into the stairwell, Michael was hugging Bethany.
Caught off guard, Bethany was rammed right into the wall.
And that kind voice was coming out of the blackness.
“I have to touch you. I thought I’d go crazy. I wanted to touch you. I walked into you earlier, just to feel you in some way…I’m burning up…I can’t stand it Oh…”
He had run into her on purpose? She hadn’t bumped him?
But how, when?
Bethany had no time to contemplate these mysteries of life as Michael gripped her harder to his frame, his leather jacket squeaking.
Somehow, in the blackness surrounding them, Bethany found Michael’s cooing mouth and planted hers smack dab on it.
His mouth was soothing and tasted buttery.
Almost in the same second, Michael leapt back, audibly gasping.
“Oh shit…” He staggered back from her and as he did, managed to press the switch, flooding the striped stairwell and attached balcony with light.
Again the two were a mess of arms and overlapping mouths, banging against the wall.
The heat, the sheer fire coursing through Bethany was overriding every other, normal, well-taught moral in her body.
She didn’t care that up until ten minutes ago that she didn’t even know his name was Michael. Or that she didn’t know his last name, or how old he was, or that he wasn’t a serial killer who would strangle her and leave her for the vermin.
It didn’t pass her mind at all.
And once Michael’s long hands found their way underneath her skirt and gripped her sinewy thighs, any hope for stopping this rapidly speeding train of lust was shot straight to the center of hell.
The two embraced and Bethany found her hands in each of Michael’s back pockets, gripping and clutching after that hard, taut ass of his.
“You want me.” She stated, rather than asked, off into his ear, living a purplish pink lip print on his lobe.
“YES…” The confirmation was hardly heard as Bethany sprang from Michael crushing his wrist and dragging him up the rest of the stairs after her to the balcony.
There was movement in that balcony.
Michael’s leather jacket came off and was tossed carelessly onto one of the dozen or so velvet-trimmed seats.
A moment later, Bethany’s denim one was on top of it, and the two were feverently kissing at each other.
As their tongues touched, Michael threw his head back and screamed so loudly, Bethany was thankful, it was in tandem with shouts of fright to the film.
Michael withdrew his arms from Bethany and slowly eased his tee off, revealing a wiry, yet well-defined upper body.
He was silent, his gaze piercing and all Bethany could hear was the rapid fire thudding of her stricken heart.
Coming closer, Bethany bent, poised to suck on one of his small, chocolaty nipples. He was just a tremendous hunk of sweetness she had to sink her teeth into.
“No…” Michael’s voice was strained and hoarse, a clear sign he was struggling to compose himself. “…Now…please…”
His breathing had grown heavier and was plain to the ear.
Pressing her forehead to his, the threat of intercourse imminent, she teased,
“No dinner first? Not even a box of gummy bears?”
Both snickered and snorted at the ridiculousness of such an idea.
Still chuckling, the fly of Michael’s trousers were loosened and he backed up to the closest seat.
His trousers fell to his ankles revealing skinny, sculpted legs and a tiny pair of sheer, black bikini cut briefs were doing their best to conceal his naughty bits.
Bits that as, Bethany gazed upon it, was acutely aware of his girth, a curled heap in the fabric.
The undies fell, releasing that thick, brown, hardened mass of flesh, circled by a tuft of jet black curls--why on earth was silver glitter on it? --and Michael dropped into the seat.
Eyeing the meat as Michael clasped it with one hand gingerly stroking at it, his furry twinkling nuts bouncing, Bethany unfastened her skirt and let it fall where it may, stepping out of it and over to Michael.
His free hand brushed her hip and finger tips grazed her sizzling pussy through the fabric.
Hand sinking between her creamy thighs, a lusty-ridden moan escaping Bethany’s lips, the small clasp holding her body suit closed, was unsnapped.
Revealing the fact that Bethany wore no underwear and Michael was staring at her bare slit.
“Christ!” He cried, head going back as Bethany leaned over him to suck at his throat. “Please…get on it…please. I don’t do all that …”
Indicating that oral sex was out of the question, though it would have been no bother at all to the heated woman kissing after him.
“You do know what you want…” Bethany snorted, but lingered wonder if that mass wouldn’t kill her, it was so big and wide… was Michael part bull?
“Sit on me… sit on it… get on me, now…please Bethany…” He pleaded softly, his free hand waving her over.
Still unsure, Bethany remained planted.
“Fucking goddamn hell!” Michael whispered suddenly, his head flying to the side, as, from the tip of the quivering mass in his hand, white hotness spurted forth three times, each blob arcing and splashing on his thighs.
It was Bethany’s turn to be astounded. She hadn’t touched him and he was ejaculating.
Head still turned, Michael spoke lowly around his gritted teeth,
“I’m just starting…” He confided, head coming around and eyeing Bethany. “It’s not over, YET. Please, for the love of Christ, get on me!”
Finally obeying Michael’s pleas, and the throbbing starting to take over her loins, Bethany approached Michael, and with those warm hands on her hips, straddled him in the seat.
“Oh!”
“Oh my God!”
The excited, livened gasps burst from their lips as Bethany settled onto Michael, his hands grasping her rounded buttocks for dear life and the swollen, aching, bulbous tip of his cock, penetrated the warm, moist, throbbing folds of her waiting, practically dripping hole.
“Yes…yes…sweet Jesus…yes…aww…” Michael grunted, getting comfortable and hanging onto Bethany’s ass cheeks for leverage, was moving her up and down his pole.
“Ugh! Ugh! Yes, you’re so good, so good, Baby…” Bethany gasped, wrapping her hands around his face and tilting his head back and mashing her lips to his.
A shriek of unbridled ecstasy went down her throat as Michael abruptly pulled himself out of her, quickly shot off more semen up her back and was forcing his way back in.
Bethany had never been with a man so turned on, and it was turning her on, even more, the way Michael was holding her and how intermittently, his thumb would creep into her backside.
Sex…
It had never been like this.
Never this wild, never this untamed.
Michael’s hands were all over her. Her hands all over him.
In his hair, on his shoulders…her mouth places on him she’d never given a thought to kissing before.
His nose, his forehead, his ears, by God, he licked her ear!, his throat.
“Oh Mike, Mike, MIKE!” Bethany cried, digging her nails into the velvet behind Michael, helping to driver herself harder on him.
“I know, I know, Baby…I know…” Michael stammered.
“OH SHIT!”
Again, he was ripped from her, slamming and clapping that oozing tube against her ass, squirting more.
“Ahhh, awww goddamn…oh mercy…oh me…woo…” Michael sighed as Bethany hugged him, not really caring for her own getting off, but enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to control himself for anything.
Hair mussed and starting to sparkle with a sheen of sweat, he was growing more and more alluring with each passing second.
Thin chest heaving, Michael managed to instruct,
“Turn…t-turn around…I wanna see your ass. I’m tired of just touching it, lemme see it, Beth…Please…please…”
Lifting her under her arms like a child, Michael helped Bethany off of him, who silently and willingly had resigned to entertaining anything he asked, she felt for him so.
She somehow got on her weakened and woebegone legs and turned with her back to Michael.
“Amazing…” Bethany jumped as he slapped her backside, before grabbing onto her and plopping him down onto him again.
One arm around her waist, and one hand clutching her throat, Michael’s face was against hers, as he resumed plugging away at her.
Eventually, he released her and with one hand had pushed her forward, his eyes directly on the dimpled, juggling gluteus slapping against his thighs.
“That ass, that ass, oh God…” Michael moaned happily, hands rubbing against it.
“OW!” Bethany was startled when both his thumbs entered her anus, stretching it playfully.
As Michael toyed in her ass, she reared up smacking into him.
“What?” Michael, holding onto her wondered, concerned instantly for his impromptu lover.
“What is it? Am I hurting you?
Bethany went stiff against him, eyes closing, and howl expelled from her--masked by the screams of movie-goers below them.
Going limp as easily as she had tensed, Bethany cooed with a giggle,
“I…I came…” Reaching back and pinching his cheek, she added, “I want you to, now…”
Chills ran all over Bethany’s nude skin as Michael hissed into her ear, biting on the lobe,
“It’s gonna happen--trust, ugh, me!”
No sooner had Michael guaranteed that he would come again… he did.
“This is it! This is it! Awww! Woo, here it comes, the big one!” He panted, his tongue swabbing Bethany’s shoulder, before with one hand, he pressed her forward and downward,
“Come on, come on, come on…” Bethany urged, hanging upside down with the blood rushing to her head, staring at Michael’s white socks, as he was flapping against her buttocks again, rocking against his hips to help him on.
“Ooooooooooh! Oooooooooh! Ooooooooh!” Exhaling like a mother in labor, Michael gushed.
Like a geyser, he was splashing all over Bethany’s cheeks so it felt to her like a hose was running on her!
“OH MY GOD!” Both exclaimed, Bethany stunned so much could come from such a slender man, and Michael, exhausted, collapsed back in the seat, his softening rod against Bethany.
For a few, uninterrupted moment, the couple sat together until their breaths slowed and steadied and Bethany could stand.
The sexual beast that had been Michael left the room and he reverted to the shy man she had met.
Pulling up his pants and tucking himself in, his voice dropped.
Leaning and grasping Bethany’s shoulders, he pecked her damp forehead and stated,
“I made quite a mess with you, Sugar. I’m gonna go get some damp napkins…”
Fingertips brushed her smoking cheek lovingly, as he turned away.
Picking up his tee, Michael was pulling it over his head as he started away.
In his absence, Bethany reclined against the wall, snickering to herself and feeling sexy. Not a particle of remorse ran through her veins at moving so fast.
She should have felt bad, but she didn’t.
She really didn’t.
Michael returned shortly, a wad of cool, wet paper towels in his hand and after carefully dabbing at her face, he dropped to his knees behind her, swabbing at her backside and lady parts.
Bethany chuckled, tickled he was being s gentle with her.
He went to far as to help her back into her clothing, completely silent.
Then, standing and arranging her hair around her shoulders, he spoke.
And what came out his mouth was nothing short of stunning.
“I saw your friends in the lobby. I told them I was taking you home…if that’s alright. And see lots more if you, if that‘s alright too…”
The room twirled in front of Bethany, and dizzy with affection, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Is it alright? Yes! Yes--of course!” She grinned, and gleefully pressed her lips to his.
* * *
Now, embraced onside of the Esquire Theatre, Bethany Carver wasn’t sure just what the future held for her and Michael, but she didn’t mind nor worry.
They had each other, and that was all that mattered.