paterson's whore

“Please, Pat,” you pout, gripping him more firmly. His eyes snap up when the strangled moan escapes his lips, relieved that it didn’t catch anyone’s notice. Your little fingers find the head of his fully swollen cock and give it a teasing swirl making it jump and leap from his pants--begging to be released from its constraints. 

Sighing in surrender, Paterson turns his large body in toward yours, attempting to shield the two of you a little more. He places a large hand on your bare inner thigh, trailing his hand under your dress; he leans in to smell your hair, ghosting his nose down the column of your neck and pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before peppering soft kisses back up, lingering in all the spots that make you squirm. 

He leans in to kiss your lips at the exact moment that one of his fingers brushes over your core, heat seeping from the place where your thighs meet. You gasp into his mouth when he presses into your clit, Paterson swallowing the sounds falling from your lips. Your fingers move to undo the button of his slacks, his hand shooting up to grab your wrist; stopping you in your tracks, eyes boring into yours.

“That’s going to be a little difficult to hide,” he says skeptically.

“Please?” you beg him, brushing a hand through his hair. He peeks over his shoulder, checking on the other movie-goers, everyone still not paying any mind to either of you. When he subtly unhooks the button himself, your eyes light up with glee and you reach into his pants, wrapping your hand around the circumference of him, fingers not quite meeting. 

You pull it out, the long member smacking silently against his button-up flannel shirt, the tip resting just under his pectoral muscles. If anyone were to peek, they would certainly get more of a show than they paid for tonight. 

You give him a stroke, concentrating on the upper half--due to having access to only one hand at this angle--when this was normally a job for at least two. You squeeze the head and thumb his weeping slit, briefly bringing your digit up to suck it between your lips. Mesmerized by you, Pat’s mouth finds yours and licks at your crease while he works on getting his own hand inside of your clothing, fingers brushing under your dress, greeting the hot, damp material of your panties. 

His long fingers stroke you over you, working you into a frenzy, before they slide under the side of the material to touch your bare skin, stroking through your slick entrance and sliding in until his knuckles meet your labia. You slouch in your seat, spreading your legs wide for him. He crooks the fingers inside of you, making them scrape your front wall while his thumb swirls a delicious rhythm around your clit. 

Your orgasm erupts through your body, soft cries echoing in Pat’s ears. He slows his rhythm, stroking you gently and leaving his fingers to rest and linger, your slick dampening his hands and the seat cushion underneath you. Finally catching your breath, you look to your perfect husband with a flushed face and hungry eyes.

“It’s your turn, baby,” you whisper with a coy little smile.

“It’s really okay, pumpkin, you don’t have to--ohhhhh---,” he groans when you squeeze the head and swirl your tongue around the tip like a lollipop, not having to lean down very far to do so. You gently guide his hand to wrap around the base of his cock to help you, while you focus on the top half. The different stroking styles of his large hand and your smaller one combined with the texture of your tongue--feeling of your hot wet mouth pulling at him--makes his heavy balls pull up, readying for release.

“Ohhh, I’m gonna--” he shudders. You nod your head and encourage him, saying something he doesn’t quite catch, but the vibrations from your vocal cords send him over; his cock spurting streams of hot cum onto your tongue and hitting the back of your throat. He continues to pump the base while you swallow around him, slurping down everything he has to give. 

Spent, he wraps a gentle hand around your jaw, popping your mouth off of him, and tilts your head up toward him. His eyes dart down to your mouth and his thumb brushes against the corner, collecting the stray white drop that had dribbled out, and pushes the digit into your mouth. You close your lips around him and swallow the last bit.