Wrong Number, a short story by shyboy. Date added: 2012-07-29. Times viewed: 5030.
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- Intro: Lucy's dream date becomes a nightmare Het MF Oral Humil
Wrong number
by Shyboy
Lucy stumbled down the aisle between rows of seats at the multiplex cinema, her flame red hair flying out behind her as she struggled to keep up with the usher.
The film had already started, its Hollywood A-list stars pouting and preening to gasps of approval from the packed audience, all of whom were totally oblivious to Lucy's ungainly progress down towards her empty seat.
God knew what had happened to Simon, her new boyfriend and the hunky object of desire for all of her jealous girlfriends.
'He's taking you OUT?!' her best pal Miranda had asked incredulously. 'YOU? He's taking YOU out? What have you got that I haven't got that's what I want to know? I've lusted after that man for years. I'd have done anything, ANYthing to have him inside my panties. God! It's so unfair!'
At that point the entire prospect of her gawky friend grabbing the man of her dreams from under her nose became too much for Miranda to bear and she ended the call, sobbing: 'Catch you later' before cutting the line.
Lucy had looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror later that day and saw only a pretty 22-year-old red head, no great beauty, average height, with a freckled complexion, green eyes, decent figure without being totally over the top, nice teeth and a pleasant smile.
But she could see what Miranda meant. Her friend was everything that Lucy wasn't. Blonde, sexy and always up for anything.
She shrugged her shoulders and re-read Simon's text for the one hundredth time. 'Hi Babe! Fancy dating Sat? Movie City, 8 sharp. C U there - Si xxx'
She'd hit reply and agreed without thinking too much about how her friends might react. And as the day of the date approached her main worry was what outfit she should wear.
Nothing too tarty for a first date. She didn't want to scare him off by being too full-on. At the same time she wanted to appear sexy for her new beau, so that he would feel proud to walk into the cinema with her on his arm.
But the cab ride across town had been a nightmare, with all roads gridlocked for some reason no-one really knew, so she had arrived at the venue ten minutes late, hot and bothered, her carefully brushed hair a mess and her blouse showing off more than modesty required, after she'd spent the journey anxiously fiddling with the buttons.
Hoisting up her knee length skirt she tumbled into the cinema and made her way to the auditorium, smiling appealingly at the stoney-faced usher to let her in even though the film had started.
Slumping down in her seat she saw that the one next to her was empty. 'Damn! He thinks I've stood him up.' she muttered to herself, peering through the gloom to see if she could see him sitting elsewhere.
Too scared to leave her place, for fear of earning the wrath of the usher, Lucy settled down to watch the film and soon became engrossed in its story of distant galaxies and beautiful princesses being rescued by manly American astronauts....the usual stuff.
Being set mostly in space the film was very darkly lit, making it impossible to make out who was with whom in the seats around her, only the noise of popcorn being crunched revealing the presence of anyone there at all.
She became aware of someone sitting in the empty seat beside her and could tell by the aroma of aftershave that it was a man.
'Si? Is that you?' she whispered, to be met with a chorus of 'Shhh!' from the surrounding seats.
'Sorry!' said Lucy, imagining the glowers she must be getting at her interruption of a slushy bit in the narrative being played out on screen.
She felt a hand patting her leg and then a strong arm being placed around her shoulders.
Leaning her head back Lucy waited for Simon to kiss her, but instead just felt his fingers gently stroking her hair. Whenever anyone stroked or brushed her hair, Lucy always went off into a kind of deep trance. She'd done it since childhood and tonight was no exception.
So when Simon's free hand reached across and stroked her breasts she made no protest and when his fingers slid inside her open necked blouse and inched inside her bra she simply sighed and let him carry on molesting her.
Somewhere inside her head she was aware that her nipples had become stiff as Simon tweaked them and rubbed them, but it didn't really register that this was happening for real. It was all part of her trance. Something happening to someone else, not her.
Her nearest hand stretched across and rested on Simon's crotch, finding a satisfying bulge there to stroke. Not that it was Lucy doing the stroking. It was the person in her trance-related fantasy.
And when Simon took his hand out of her bra and slipped it up under her skirt the other Lucy, the one in the fantasy, opened her legs and allowed him to rub her wet panties and finger her pussy through their thin lacy material.
Because all the time Simon kept stroking her hair, none of these things were really happening. It was all just a dream.
Even when his fingers found her stiff clit and began to rub it in a circular motion, the real Lucy didn't believe it was happening to her. It was just her fantasy. She'd wake up soon and find the seat still empty, no-one there.
On screen the adventure in space was getting to its dramatic climax. The music swelled, growing louder and louder. The audience were held spellbound by the special effects and unfolding drama.
No-one was aware of the strange, unkempt girl with the red hair squirming and wriggling in her seat as her male companion finger fucked her to a climax, nor did they see her drop to her knees between his open legs and take his cock into her mouth, holding it firmly as she worked her tongue around the bulging purple glans.
Nor were they even interested when the man went rigid in his seat and pulled the girl's head down as he fucked her mouth, filling it with his hot, creamy cum before slumping back and allowing her to resume her place next to him.
And only when the lights went up, as the credits rolled and the semi-naked girl, blouse undone, her tits dangling out of her bra and a trickle of semen sliding down her chin began to scream and scream and scream, did they pay any attention.
'YOU'RE NOT SIMON!!' she was yelling as the middle-aged usher, his uniform slightly dishevelled, with his crisp white shirt sticking out of his flies where he had hastily put his cock back inside his pants, was trying to get away from the red head's violent blows raining down on his bald head.
And as Lucy's fists pummelled his shiny dome and she called him every kind of bastard under the sun, the audience cheered her on, their whoops and hollers filling the auditorium and echoing outside, to where Miranda and Simon were standing in the queue, waiting for the next performance.
'I still can't get over you sending silly Lucy that text by mistake Si,' said Miranda, clutching her hunky man around the waist. 'Fancy getting her number muddled up with mine. Lucky I got in touch with you and put you right, or you might have had a really boring night! You did text her back to tell her not to turn up tonight didn't you?'
Simon shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. His rugged good looks, muscular torso, dark hair and eyes meant he never needed to ask a woman more than once for a date. One woman, another woman, what did it matter as long as he got laid at the end of the night?
'Yeah babe, course I did. What sort of a louse do you think I am?'
As if in answer to this question, as the line moved forward and they reached the entrance lobby, from the auditorium came the sound of Lucy's howls of despair: 'You're not Simon you bastard! Where's Simon? Where is he? What have you done with him?'
Outside, the object of her desire hung his head as his latest conquest slipped away from the crowd and headed into the cinema to comfort her distraught friend. 'I'm coming sweetie...it's Miranda...I'm coming for you, don't cry like that....forget Simon....he's the bastard here. Dear God, just forget him.....'
ENDS
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