The Harder They Come

At the time of this story, my wife-to-be and I had been together for a few months. We were able to fuck occasionally in cheap rented hotel rooms, but most of our fun times were in my parked car. A prof for one of my classes arranged for the Jamaican movie “The Harder They Come” to be shown at intervals in a college auditorium, and class members were assigned to make 10 observations about scenes from the movie. It was shot in the early 1970s and was starkly realistic, almost documentary in nature. Some people consider the reggae soundtrack to have been the breakthrough for that genre outside the Caribbean, pre-dating the fame of Bob Marley, etc.

I thought the fiancée might enjoy seeing it, so had her come on campus to watch with me. When we got to the auditorium, there was one other couple there, so it was easy to find a place where we could mess around - the sexual tension between the two of us pretty much overflowed even as we entered.

The movie is about 105 minutes, so I thought I’d do half the assignment in the first part, then take extended orgasm breaks, and then finish the last half towards the end. After I took my first notes, we started groping each other and got our jeans down enough to be able to service each other.

I started in on fingering the fiancée’s very hairy slit and clit, having decided as a gentleman that she should cum first. She was incredibly wet from the get-go, and she grabbed my hand a few times to slow me down and make her pleasure last. Still, it didn’t take all that long before she held in her breath, arched her hips and had her orgasm.

I noticed that the other couple had moved down a few rows, but I was too far gone to care what they might see or think. By this point in fact, I was told by the wife later, the husband had fallen asleep. Fiancée took my cock in a soft, almost delicate grip, and stroked slowly. She would stop from time to time to caress my increasingly drawn-up balls, and it didn’t take long for my pre-cum to lubricate my shaft.

I was nearing the point-of-no-return and whispered to the fiancée to make me shoot off on the chair in front of me. Instead she pulled out my shirt, unbuttoned it, and made be blow a thick, multi-squirt load over my belly and chest as supreme pleasure wracked me. Fiancée got some tissue out of her purse and wiped me clean. We got our clothes back together and watched the rest of the flick and I took the notes for the rest of the assignment.

The wife in the other couple would make the universal jackoff gesture to me the odd time in the student pub or classroom, so she must have seen the whole thing.