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Normally Diane just waited to be "caught out", but it seemed this bloke just wasn't going to take notice of anything. Seeing that, she moved into the seat beside him. If he wouldn't look on his own, she would make him.

Spreading her legs, she pressed hers against his thigh to no avail. All he did was move it away. He didn't turn when she ate the popcorn loudly either. Diane wondered if she would have done better to sit behind him. At least then he would have turned around. Frustrated, she decided to try rubbing her leg against his one more time.

This time he turned. It had certainly taken him long enough! Diane moved the coat and parted her unbuttoned skirt so he could get a better look at what she was doing. Even in the dim light of the theater, she knew that he would soon realize and hopefully...

The gusset of her thong slipped between her puffy outer lips as she rubbed her fingers over the thin material. She liked the feel of it pressing against her as she began. It was wet from her juices and the unmistakable scent of sex began to permeate the air around them. She liked that, too.

The young man hadn't said a word, but she saw that he was stirring restlessly. Diane felt a thrill run through her body at the thought of what he might do. What she hoped he'd do. Even if he didn't do it here, she knew that he would later while he thought of her. And she liked that as well.

Certain now that she had his attention, Diane used her left hand to pull the thong aside as her other hand moved downward over her curly mound -- closer to the petal-soft folds of her hot, wet sheath. A low moan of anticipation escaped her lips. This was so dirty and sweet.

She watched the young man through half closed eyes as she touched herself, spreading the slick wetness with her fingertips as she slowly began to massage her swollen nubbin.

Father John had told her that it was called a clitoris. He had told her the names for all of her parts, in fact. Mother always just referred to them as her dirty bits -- if she referred to them at all. Father John. Her spiritual guide. Her mentor. Her savior. Her...

Diane's hips gyrated rhythmically with the movement of her fingers. Her orgasm was only a breath away and she altered the tempo of her movements, allowing the feelings to surge and ebb. She wasn't ready. She didn't want it to end...

just...

yet.

Even so, Diane could not deny it and cried out softly as she lost control.

Slipping over the edge as that strong lovely sensation claimed her, she stiffened. Her voice was low, pleading, raspy and wanton. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and she was drowning. Drowning beneath a wild wave of pleasure. Her body was wracked by uncontrollable, shuddering contractions as she called out quiety, "Bless me, Father... Ohhh... "