The Theater Seat – Chapter Five: The Ride Home
The ride home was unbearable.
Not just because my cock throbbed like it had its own heartbeat, swollen and denied. Not just because my mind was replaying the sounds of her moaning, gagging, begging — the way her voice climbed each time a new man pushed inside her. Not even because she still hadn’t looked at me.
It was because she looked better than ever, like she’d just been made.
Hair tousled, cheeks flushed, thighs still parted lazily in the passenger seat. Her dress clung like a second skin, damp between her legs, pulled high enough to show the smear of someone else’s cum near her inner thigh. She lit another cigarette without a word, took a long, slow drag, and rested one bare foot on the dash.
I wanted to reach over. I wanted to bury my face between her legs. I wanted to cry.
Instead, I drove.
“You’re hard again,” she finally said, not even glancing at me.
I didn’t respond.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she asked, exhaling a long ribbon of smoke toward the cracked window. Then she smiled. “You love how filthy I am now, don’t you? That I let them use me like that. You can’t stop thinking about it.”
At home, the lights were low. She kicked off her heels by the front door and slipped out the back.
“Strip,” she said over her shoulder. “But don’t touch it.”
I followed, naked, cock pointing straight ahead like a compass begging for north.
She turned on the outdoor shower. Water burst from the spout, steaming in the night air. She stepped beneath it, then reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. It slid down her body in a slow, deliberate fall, pooling at her feet. She was bare now, fully nude — water and moonlight licking every inch of her.
She bathed slowly, like a ritual.
Lather. Rinse. Turn. Bend.
She soaped her breasts with both hands, dragging her palms over them like they were sacred. She slid her fingers between her thighs, eyes fluttering as she moaned. “So messy,” she whispered.
I stood there, aching.
“Sit by the pool,” she commanded. “I’ll join you.”
I lay back on a lounge chair, moonlight washing over me. My cock pulsed against my belly. She came out with only a towel loosely wrapped around her hips, then let it fall. Her skin gleamed, still warm and pink from the water. Her breasts swayed gently as she walked barefoot across the patio, hips rolling in slow, deliberate confidence.
She straddled me without a word, the heat of her body sinking onto mine. Then she reached for her cigarettes.
She pulled one out with her lips, lit it with a soft click of the lighter, then tossed the lighter behind her without looking. She took a long, deep drag, exhaled through her nose, and stared into me.
“You love this, don’t you?” she asked, the cherry of the cigarette flaring. “Me, naked and dripping, smoking while I ride your cock.”
She hovered, letting the swollen head of my cock press against her soaked entrance.
“Say it.”
“I love it. I love watching you smoke.”
She smiled. Then, slowly, she sank down — inch by inch — taking me all the way inside. Her lips parted as she exhaled smoke toward the stars.
The cigarette dangled from her mouth now, glowing between each breath as she started to ride me.
She leaned in, her breasts pressing against my chest, the tip of the cigarette hovering just above my shoulder. One hand braced on my stomach, the other lazily tapped ash to the side.
Her free hand slid to my chest, fingers finding my nipple. She pinched gently at first, then twisted with purpose.
“That gets you, doesn’t it? My tits bouncing. My cigarette glowing. Your cock buried in me while I smoke and play with you.”
She shifted, angling her hips to take me deeper. Her body clenched.
“You jerk off to this shit, don’t you? Smoking girls. Bad girls. Sluts with ash on their thighs and cum in their mouths.”
I moaned. She blew smoke directly into my mouth, her breath hot and heavy.
“You’ll stroke it when I say,” she whispered. “But right now? You stay inside and take it.”
She rode me slow, tight, unhurried — savoring every inch. The cigarette burned low. She took another drag, lips pursed, smoke curling above us as she twisted my other nipple.
She was smiling now. Ferocious. In control.
“You’re mine now,” she whispered. “Not your videos. Not your browser tabs. Me. And this—”
She ground down hard, her nails grazing my chest.
“This is your new addiction.”
She dragged the cigarette across my chest — not burning, just warm — and let ash fall like confetti.
“I saw your porn history.”
My stomach flipped.
“Cuckold husband. Slut wife. Smoking. Exhibitionism. Gangbang.”
Each word landed like a hit.
“I know what you watch when I’m gone. I know how you stroke yourself to it. And every time I screamed tonight… every time a cock slid into me… I pictured you in the dark, jerking off to someone else.”
She reached between us, stroking me slowly.
“So I gave you what you wanted. Not a screen. Not fantasy. Me.”
“I never wanted anyone else,” I choked out.
“Bullshit,” she spat. “You didn’t want them, but you wanted me like them. Sluttier. Filthier. Wilder. You didn’t have the balls to ask.”
She lit another cigarette from the glowing end of the first and took a long, sensuous drag, then let the old one fall to the concrete.
“I should be pissed. But I’m not. Because I like being that woman. The one you jerk off to.”
Her hand moved faster now, the smoke trailing from her lips while she smirked with her cigarette bobbing between her teeth.
“But from now on? You don’t get to fantasize about strangers. You fantasize about me. Every dirty, obscene thing you want? You beg me for it.”
She leaned closer, ash falling on my chest.
“Tell me how you do it. When you jerk off. What do you picture?”
I hesitated.
“Say it.”
“I imagine I’m tied up. Watching you get fucked. You’re dripping, screaming his name, and I can’t do anything but watch.”
She grinned, exhaling smoke across my face. “Good boy.”
She took another long drag, guiding my hand to my cock.
“Do it. Show me how you stroke it. Show me how you get off watching girls like me get used.”
I obeyed. Slowly. She watched every stroke.
“Faster,” she growled. “Like when you’re desperate. Alone. Needy.”
She cupped my balls, bent to kiss my ear, her smoky breath thick and hot.
“You’re gonna come for me. Not your porn. Not your bullshit. Me.”
I tensed.
“No,” she snapped, pulling her hand away. “Edge again. Just like those nights you tried to train yourself to last.”
She made me do it again. And again. My body shook, legs trembling.
Finally, she slid back onto me, whispered into my mouth:
“Now.”
I exploded. Once. Then again. Then again. Raw. Violent. Spent.
She kissed my forehead, laughing softly.
“That’s how you come for me.”
She stood, walked to the edge of the pool, and dipped her foot in.
“That guy with the monster cock… he never got his turn.”
She looked over her shoulder, cigarette still glowing.
“Maybe next week I’ll give him a try… if you’re up for it.”
The End
