Getting Fingered Under the Blankets During Movie Night [Exhibitionists]

The dim glow of the television flickers across the couch, casting shadows that dance macabrely on the walls. I’m sprawled out, my blue sweatshirt riding up, exposing the soft skin of my stomach. His hand, calloused and rough, slips under the blanket, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh. I can feel his breath, hot and ragged, on my neck as he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s make this movie night interesting,” he growls, his hand inching higher, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of my panties. I can feel the heat of his touch, the electricity that courses through my veins as he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them aside. His fingers, thick and greedy, find my slick folds, parting them with a brutal, possessive hunger. I moan softly, my hips bucking as he begins to fuck me with his fingers, his thumb circling my clit in a relentless, torturous rhythm. The movie plays on, the sounds of distant explosions and car chases muffling my gasps and cries as he brings me to the edge of ecstasy, his fingers buried deep inside my pussy, my juices coating his hand.

The room is filled with the scent of sex, the air thick and heavy with it. His hand moves faster, his fingers curling upwards, hitting that spot deep inside me that makes my vision blur. I can feel the tension building, the coiled spring of pleasure that’s about to snap. His other hand grips my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me in place, his body pressing against mine. I can feel his hardness, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against my ass, a promise of what’s to come. But for now, it’s just his fingers, his relentless, merciless fingers, driving me wild, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. The screen flickers, the sounds of the movie a distant hum as I lose myself in the sensation, my body convulsing as I come, my pussy clamping down on his fingers, my juices gushing out, soaking the blanket beneath us. He chuckles, a low, dirty sound, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out my orgasm, milking every last drop of pleasure from my body.