Chương 376: Wandering Hands
bySimonDoom©
Author's Note: This story is submitted as an entry in the 750-Word Story Event. Please keep that in mind if you wonder why the story isn't longer or more developed!
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The lights dimmed. The movie would start soon, but first the trailers would play.
I felt a hand, loose on my thigh. It wanted to play, too -- my twin brother Joey's hand.
I don't know how it started, but during the summer when Joey and I came home after our sophomore year of college we played a game we called "wandering hands."
It started innocently, on the sofa, while watching TV. One of us would put a hand on the other, fingers extended in the form of a spider, and the spider would wander over the other's body until it found a spot that it tickled.
Joey had the advantage, because he was far less ticklish than I was. With little effort he could reduce me to helpless, spastic writhing and uncontrollable shrieking.
As the weeks passed the game grew less innocent. Our hands touched parts of one another that brothers and sisters did not normally touch. Neither one of us pushed too far, but a few times Joey pushed far enough that he left me with heavy breath and flushed skin.
We'd never played the game in public before, but now we did.
Joey's hand, in spider form, raised up on its fingertips on my bare skin. I wore short shorts and a cropped top, and no bra. It was a smart thing to wear on a hot summer day but in the air-conditioned movie theater the cool air pricked my skin and my nipples stood up under the thin top.
The hand spider crawled to my knee and squeezed, and then crawled back up my thigh, until it reached my belly, between my navel and the top button of my shorts. My body clenched, waiting to spasm from being tickled.
Joey didn't tickle me. A finger from the spider traced the top edge of my shorts. It even pushed under them a bit. Joey tested me. I turned toward him and pushed my hips up, just a little, to show I wanted him to touch me.
The spider's middle finger pushed a little deeper under the shorts and then pulled out. Then it crawled up my belly, past my navel, and stopped. A finger extended and tickled the underside of my boob.
Joey and I looked at each other in the dark. He mouthed a question: "OK?"
I nodded.
The hand crawled up, over my breast, and squeezed it. Joey's fingers had crawled over my breasts before during our games, but he'd never squeezed them. Now he did, in a movie theater, with other people around us.
We sat in the back row, so no one could see us, except an older man about ten seats to my left. He and I stared at each other. But my brother kept squeezing my boob and I didn't stop him.
Instead, still staring at my gawker, I unbuttoned my shorts and peeled them back. The spider squeezed my breast for a few more seconds and then crawled down again, settling in between the unbuttoned gap in my shorts. Joey's fingers flattened against my skin and pushed under the elastic band of my panties. He cupped my pussy and his thumb rested on my clit. The meat of his palm mashed against my fur. A finger slipped between my wet lips. I wanted to groan but I kept quiet in the theater.
I couldn't believe what Joey was doing, but he was doing it and I liked it.
The thumb started moving in tight circles over my clit.
I soon realized Joey was going to make me come.
We looked into each other's eyes while he touched me. I ignored everything else.
Joey's skillful, circling thumb, and the excitement of being touched in public, soon took me to the edge of an orgasm. I tried to push against it, wanting the delicious touch of his thumb on me as long as possible. But when he also started fucking my pussy with his finger I knew I couldn't hold back.
I rocked my hips against his touch. I opened my mouth in a sexy way to show him how much I liked his hand on me. With a free hand I pulled my top down so he could see my boobs while he played with me.
I came soon after and my hips shook, but I stayed quiet then and during the rest of the movie.
Later, in the car, I wondered where Joey's hands would wander when we got home.
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