Felicity Jones

He was in the dark. She was in the dark. They were in the dark. He couldn’t see much of her—only a vague silhouette lit from second hand light reflected from the movie, but…he could smell her. More than ever, he could smell her. Her flower scented cologne, her bath wash and her se-x-x. God, all his senses now channeled through his nose and he could actually smell her c*nt—from three feet away, her beautiful, he just knew, smooth c*nt. God, it smelled good. The fragrance reminded him of slightly burnt roasted almonds. He knew, given the opportunity, he could lie in front of her sweet p*ssy dining on it all day.

Too excited for words, he suddenly felt a constriction in his throat and could barely breathe. He forced himself to breathe hard and the burnt roasted almond bouquet that wafted into his lungs relaxed his throat.

He admired her beautiful silhouette as she watched the movie. Had anyone in the history of man since time immemorial, ever wanted a woman more? Could Romeo have wanted Juliet more? Could Marc Anthony have wanted Cleopatra more? Napoleon and Marie Antoinette? Solomon and Sheba? No! No f*cking way!

He took a deep breath and savored her p*ssy. Then another and another. Soon he was mad with lust.

“Adam, please be quiet. You’re making too much noise. What are you grunting and groaning for?”

If you only knew, my ‘USDA Choice’ piece of flesh. What’s the warm, smooth, silky object his hand is resting on? He glanced down and realized his hand rested on her pale thigh—only inches from her c*nt. Then he noticed since almost everyone had moved closer to the screen to watch the movie, the three of them had the last five rows of seats to themselves. He grew even more excited. Sitting in the back row in the dark, they were virtually invisible to the professor or anyone else in the unlikely event they glanced up.

He was so nervous, he could feel the red, liquid life-force pulsing in his ears as he slowly, languorously, edged his hand up her thigh. Slowly, under her skirt his fingers crept. Her gasp as his daring fingers touched her panties, made his stomach jump into his throat. She moaned and he paused. Even though he hadn’t moved his hand in fifteen seconds, her moans continued. As her moans grew louder, he glanced once more at her pale thighs. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he realized, Devon’s dark hand was also under her skirt.

* * * *

Adam’s hand remained stationary, but still the presence of a man’s hand so near her feminine core, had a skyrocketing effect on her libido. When the lights went out and the movie started, a second hand—Devon’s hand—landed on her other thigh. Though it thrilled her to no end, it was also worrisome. Felicity only wanted one lover, yet two desirable men had hands within inches of her pussy, which frankly, started heating faster than a chemistry class Bunsen burner. Throwing judgment out the window, she allowed both hands to remain in their intimate location and furthermore, faking discomfort fidgeted and opened her legs more. As a bonus, Devon’s and to a lesser extent Adam’s hands slid from atop her thigh, more to the side—the inside—of her thigh. She wondered at that moment if she had some subconscious agenda to receive the affections of both men. She’d never denied, she found both men excitingly attractive and she was, after all, only seeking sex. At least that what she thought she was after.

As Adam’s hand advanced, so did Devon’s, though quicker. By the time Adam’s fingers touched her crème-logged panties, Devon’s finger’s had shunted them aside and were at the portal to her womanly lair. With heartbeat and pulse surging, she stopped breathing from the anticipation. When his long thick finger glided effortlessly into her slippery, expanded channel, she gasped and s*cked in a huge breath.

Unexpectedly, a second finger slid into her—Adam’s. Felicity’s eyes had never been larger or rounder. Two separate men had a finger in her deep recess simultaneously. Why does it seem so sexy? Each finger was independent of the other and entered her from a different angle. They moved in and out of her differently and when they were inside her they wiggled, massaging the soft, fleshy, interior cushions of her pussy differently. Her back arched violently, pushing her snatch into their intimate, combined fingers as a deluge of carnal sensations slammed through her.