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“Connor, don’t you let you go of that button,” she mutters, uncrossing her legs and placing her hand over her mouth. Her breathing grows ragged by the second, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t let go.”
I glance quickly at the upper row, confirming that both her boss and the Royal Secretary are paying attention to the opera and not to us, and then do as she tells me, making the bullet vibrate inside her pussy with no break. I notice her kicking against the balcony railing and biting hard at her lower lip, whispering something under her breath. I give her my hand and she squeezes it hard, her fingernails burying themselves into me. She has just came again.
Well, this is rather fun, I think, turning up the intensity to a challenging High. I can already see her sliding down her seat, her hand twisting as I figure she wants nothing more than to rest one finger over her clit and rub it out. I would gladly do it for her if I could - screw that, I’d do a whole lot more than that if I wasn’t stuck in the middle of an opera house surrounded by hundreds of people, most of them anxious to see what crazy stunt the infamous Prince of St. Albans will pull this time.
Sometimes I wish I was a commoner - at least that way nobody would care if I just went berserk and fucked her right here on the booth. Alright, some people would care, but at least I wouldn’t make headlines in every fucking news station around the whole globe. Right now I prefer a “Is the Prince maturing?” news title over the old “Connor does it again!” headline the newspapers love to go with, so I stay put. I wonder what they would make of it if they learned Natalie, the woman in charge of my “maturing process”, is cumming her brains out with a vibrator inside her pussy as we watch the opera - now that would be a funny piece to read.
“Oh my God… I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she tells me, rubbing her hand against her knee. It amuses me to no end to know that what she really wants is to press her hand against her pussy, but she simply can’t . Seeing her like this makes my cock turn as hard as stone, straining against my boxer briefs and trousers and aching for release.
It seems that my little teasing game is backfiring on me - I’m not torturing her as much as I’m torturing myself. Fuck, I just want to unzip my pants, grab her head and pull her down as I slide my cock inside her perfect little mouth. There are a lot of things running through my mind at the same time, and they all somehow involve bending her over and fucking her senselessly. I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve lusted for someone with this kind of intensity. Natalie’s perfect like that - she makes my heart happy and she makes my cock even happier. It doesn’t get any better than that.
She deserves all that I can give her and, right now, all that I can do is make her cum over and over again… wirelessly. Granted, it sounds kinda funny when said like this, but once I turn it up and don’t let go of the button, the look on her face is anything but funny. Just watching her smile while she tries to keep her composure, her legs trembling… I’m afraid my hard on is going to burst out of my pants anytime soon.
Natalie punches my leg as she comes, rubbing her feet against one another. She simply can’t stay still and, given that she has to act her part, she’s using whatever little outlets she has to let go of some steam.
I put my hand on her knee, stroking it softly, as I press one more button and a red light appears on the remote - the Extreme Mode is now on. I like the sound of that.
“Oh, God,” she whispers, throwing her head against the headrest and smiling in a funny way. She actually grabs my wrist and makes me lay my hand against her inner thigh as she closes her legs. I extend my fingers, brushing against her thong - she’s wet as hell, the fabric of her thong completely soaked.
She squeezes my hand hard and fakes an enthusiastic smile - way too enthusiastic. She looks like a manic hamster having a panic attack while on cocaine. Everyone around us would never guess what’s actually happening, though; they’d just see it as her being happy and enthusiastic about the opera, but I know the truth. She’s cumming hard… Very hard. “More, Connor… Give me more.”
“Be my guest,” I press down the button and hold it there, enjoying the way she squirms in her seat. She even moans, and then tries to pass it off as a nervous laugh. I hold my finger over the button until she goes through another orgasm and starts chucking in a low tone of voice almost hysterically, the sound of it like honey to my ears.
I could stop now but, well, she asked for more, didn’t she?. As she twitches and squirms in her seat, ecstasy rippling under her skin, my finger never leaves the button. I can already see beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, her whole body tensing up as if she’s having an heart attack. She presses her back hard against the seat, pushing with her legs against the floor as a wild smile dances on her lips, one arm pushing against the edge of the balcony.
I curl my fingers around the remote, pressing all four buttons at the same time. She jumps up in her seat, her eyes widening, and grabs my leg so strongly that I grimace. I look at her and, seeing the strained lines in her face, I can almost feel the intense and mind blowing pleasure that spreads from her pussy to her whole body. The seat between her legs is glistening with her juices, and she’s breathing out raggedly as she tries to maintain her composure.
The crowd begins a thunderous applause.
And it’s a good thing they do.
Because Natalie literally cries out in pleasure. She’s been holding it in for a while, and I watch as pleasure just wracks through her like a rag doll.
God, it feels so good.
I can smell her juices.
I let the remote go, and watch her slump in her chair for a long moment, her breath coming in gasps and heaves.
Thankfully with everyone focused on the stage, no one is looking at the debaucherous couple in the corner booth.
Just in case, I stand up to applause as well.
It must take Natalie a good half hour to be able to get out of her chair and be able to walk. Her face is still really deeply flushed.
Enough so that when Nadia sees her, she asks, “Is everything okay?”
Natalie just nods mutely.
We pair off into cabs. Nadia and George grab a cab because they’re headed cross town.
I decide to split a cab with Natalie.
We wait till George and Nadia have left.
“You want me to drop you home, love?” I ask, genuinely concerned that Natalie’s brains may have been affected after that fucking strong series of orgasms. “I guess it’s on my way.”
But Natalie says nothing. Her eyes fucking twinkle as she looks at me.
