Moaning, he thrusts slowly, using the thumb of his other hand on my clitoris, turning little circles and tracing figure-eights. Kissing my cheeks and ...egs, I feel his tongue flick across my clitoris at times. I know he’s not all that big on taste, which makes me even more wet knowing he’s doing this for more of my benefit. He increases speed, pressure, making me whimper and squeeze the counter top, my legs weak. I can feel myself coming so close, I can feel myself dripping down my legs. I can. The theatre is mostly empty and there is no audience. I remember feeling somewhat cold and a bit awkward. But any sense of awkwardness was not because I felt self-conscious of my nakedness or afraid or ashamed, but mostly because somehow I felt like I didn’t belong among the people there. Spread across the stage, there were seven or eight guys, seemingly stage workers, walking up and down getting the place ready for a show. After a while, I noticed that the guys placing, retrieving and. More

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