Franciska at the movies

Franciska slips past the usher like she owns the place. She settles into a seat dead center, the screen throwing flickers across empty rows. Her top peels away. Nipples tighten under her fingertips as she rolls them, slow at first, then firmer. Her skirt bunches at her waist and her hand finds the wet heat between her thighs. Fingers slide inside, stroking with steady rhythm. Breath sharpens. The popcorn bowl waits on the armrest. She lifts her hips, angles her pussy above it, and lets a hot stream splash into the kernels, filling the bowl until the last drop falls. The theater stays quiet except for her own soft sounds.