His Wife's Naughty Date

I'm on a first date with a short brunette who has curly hair and dirty mind. We're at a Broadway show and having a good time. Just after intermission, she reaches over and unzips my fly.... One thing I don't know yet is that she's someone else's property.

The stage lights flickered back to life as the orchestra tuned up, signaling the end of intermission. I was in the middle of tucking my ticket stub back into my pocket. Our eyes met momentarily, and then my date, who had until this point been a total delight, smirked. She then leaned over. I stiffened. She unzipped my fly. She looked up, biting her lip, and reached into my pants. She wrapped her small, warm hand around my cock. I felt myself harden instantly. She began to stroke me, her hand moving smoothly under the table. I leaned back in my seat, trying to keep my cool. The house lights dimmed, but I hardly noticed. The sounds of the orchestra faded into the background. "Enjoy the show," she whispered, her breath hot on my ear. I grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. "What the hell are you doing?" She grinned. "Just preparing you for the second act. Relax and enjoy." She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then turned her attention back to the stage. My heart pounded. I glanced around, but no one seemed to notice. Her grip tightened. I let out a shaky breath. "Fuck," I muttered, trying to focus on the performance, but all I could feel was her hand, working me expertly in the dark.

She ignored my hissed protests, her fingers dancing along my shaft, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the head. Her touch was confident, her movements deliberate. She stroked me slowly, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the bead of precum that had already formed. I tried to focus on the actors on stage, but my vision swam, the words of the performance blending into a meaningless drone. All I could feel was her hand, her touch, her breath hot on my cheek. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear. "Shh," she whispered, her voice a low purr. "Just let go. No one can see us. Everyone's watching the show." I risked a glance around the theater. The rows of seats were filled with people, their faces illuminated by the glow of the stage. No one seemed to notice the explicit scene unfolding in the shadows. She chuckled softly, sensing my nervousness. "Relax," she murmured, her hand moving faster, her grip tighter. "I won't let you come until you're ready. Until you can't take it anymore." She shifted in her seat, her body pressing against mine. I could feel the heat of her through her dress, the soft curve of her breast brushing against my arm. She was driving me wild, her touch, her scent, her presence all-consuming. Her eyes flashed in the dim light, and she licked her lips. She leaned close. "You're going to make a mess of yourself, if you keep going like that," she breathed. Her fingers tightened, and I could feel the tension building in my balls. "Look at the stage," she commanded softly, her voice a mix of domination and desire. "Enjoy the fucking show. Let me do the work."

I didn't dare disobey. I forced my eyes back to the stage, the actors' movements jerky and unreal. Her hand worked me relentlessly, her thumb swirling over the sensitive spot just below the head. I could feel my breaths coming in short gasps, my body tense with the effort of staying quiet and still. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against my ear. "That's it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "Let it build. Let it grow." I could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in my gut. Her hand moved faster, her grip tighter, her touch more insistent. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the groan that threatened to escape. Suddenly, her hand stilled, and I let out a shaky breath, relieved and frustrated. She chuckled softly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh. "Not yet," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "We have all night." She shifted in her seat, her dress riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of her thigh. I risked a glance, taking in the smooth, pale skin, the curve of her hip. She caught my look and smiled, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Like what you see?" she teased, her hand moving back to my cock. She stroked me slowly, her touch light, teasing. I let out a shaky breath, my body alive with sensation. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. "You're so hard," she whispered, her voice a low purr. "I want to taste you. I want to feel you in my mouth. But not yet. Not here." I let out a shaky breath. "Then where?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Patience," she murmured, her hand moving faster, her grip tighter. "All good things to those who wait."

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as we stepped out into the cool night air. The theater lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the crowded sidewalk. She linked her arm through mine, her body pressing close, but I had other plans. "You think you've had your fun," I leaned in, my voice a low growl in her ear. "Now it's my turn." She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, really?" I nodded, steering her away from the crowd, towards a secluded alley behind the theater. The dim streetlight cast long shadows, providing just enough cover. She gasped as I pushed her against the rough brick wall, my body pinning hers. "Who says I'm done with just your hand?" I murmured, my lips trailing down her neck. I could feel her pulse quicken under my touch. I stepped back and looked at her. "Let's see what's under that dress." Her breath hitched as I slowly gathered the fabric in my hands, lifting it up to expose her thighs, her hips, and finally, the lacy edge of her panties. "Fuck," I groaned, running a fingertip along the lace. "You're soaking." She bit her lip, her eyes dark with desire. "And whose fault is that?" I smirked, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties. "Mine," I agreed, pulling them down slowly. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside. I could see the glisten of her arousal in the faint light, and it took every ounce of willpower not to drop to my knees right then. She was so fucking beautiful. I trailed a finger up her inner thigh, teasing her. "You like being teased, don't you?" I whispered, my breath hot on her skin. She nodded, her hips pressing forward, seeking more. I smiled, enjoying her desperation. But I wasn't done tormenting her. Not by a long shot. Suddenly, I heard approaching footsteps. Someone was coming down the alley. I quickly pulled her dress down, turning her to face the wall. She let out a soft gasp as I pressed against her, my hand covering her mouth. She could feel my cock hard against her ass, and she let out a soft moan. "Shh," I whispered, my voice a low growl. "Someone's coming." The footsteps grew louder, and I could see the silhouette of a figure approaching. I pressed harder against her, my hand still covering her mouth. She was panting, her body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. I had to admit, this was hot. The figure passed by, oblivious to our presence. I waited a moment longer, savoring the tension, before finally removing my hand. She turned to face me, her eyes wild, her cheeks flushed. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. I smiled, satisfied with my handiwork. "My turn," I murmured, my voice a low growl. My fingers found the strap of her dress and slowly dragged it down, exposing her shoulder first. She let out a soft gasp as the cool night air hit her skin.

Here's the rewritten section with the requested changes: I gripped her hair, pulling her head back hard enough to make her gasp. My cock throbbed against her swollen lips, slick with her spit. "Open," I ordered, my voice rough. She obeyed instantly, tongue teasing the tip as my grip tightened. I didn’t give her time to adjust—just shoved deep, fucking her mouth in short, brutal thrusts. Her nails dug into my thighs, muffled gagging sounds vibrating against me. Close. So fucking close. With a grunt, I yanked her back by the hair. Her lips parted in a gasp, eyes watering as I stroked myself hard and fast. "Look at me," I snarled. The first hot stripe of cum hit her cheek before she could react. The second splashed across her mouth. She licked her lips instinctively, swallowing what landed on her tongue as the rest dripped down her chin. I exhaled sharply, watching her face glisten under the dim alley light. "Good girl." She stayed on her knees, breathing hard, dress still pooled around her waist. I tucked myself back into my pants while she reached for her discarded clothes with shaky hands. The dress slid back into place, straps adjusted hastily. But she didn’t wipe her face—just looked up at me with dark, hungry eyes as I hauled her to her feet. "Leave it," I murmured, thumbing a stray drop from her jaw. Her pulse jumped under my touch. When we stepped back onto the sidewalk, the theater crowd had thinned but still lingered. A man in a suit did a double take. A woman gasped, clutching her friend’s arm. Whispers followed us like shadows. She tensed for half a second—then squared her shoulders, letting her tongue dart out to catch the last remnants on her lips. The flush on her cheeks wasn’t from shame. I smirked, sliding an arm around her waist as she leaned into me. "Fuck," she breathed, eyes bright with defiance. "Do it again."