The Return Visit Part-1-of-1
I've visited our local adult bookstore several times now, usually only when my wife Barbara is out of town. I'm not sure I could think up any excuse good enough to explain to her why I wanted to head out late in the evening, alone, and without needing anything at the store. Last Friday night happened to be one of those rare occasions. She was out of town for the evening and not due back until sometime late Saturday. What brought me there on Friday night though, began several months ago.
Like many other guys I've run into on the 'net, I've developed, in my early 40s, a curiosity about things bisexual. Who knows where this came from after 30-years of experiencing and thinking only about firm full breasts and soft, warm pussies? The home sex had certainly settled down into a relatively infrequent routine. Easy access to the Internet, ready pictures, particularly on amateur, real people kinds of sites, and anonymous adult chat sites certainly didn't help. Chat rooms had already led me to a briefly exciting, but potentially disastrous affair with a married woman a couple years ago.
Though I'd promised myself to stay away from them after the affair, the lure of a quick, anonymous, online conversation climaxed by a self-inflicted hand job brought me quickly back to the chat rooms. Then more and more, I found myself talking with other guys, first creating elaborate fantasies about our wives, and then soon, conversations about imagined contact between ourselves.
At first it felt odd, and wrong. But the more I created these elaborate mutual fantasies with guys online, the more intriguing the possibility of them actually becoming real. Instant message chatting brought on the voice-over conversations, which led to my secret purchase of a web-cam that my wife still doesn't know about. The attraction of touching another man's cock gradually became more appealing.
That next level was the least of my worries as I mentally slid closer and closer to something that three years earlier I never thought I'd seek. I made my first visit to our small town's one and only porn shop several months ago. After browsing the aisles of sex toys and girlie magazines until I mustered up the courage, to venture through the 1970s bead chains that passed for a doorway into the video booth area in the back. Ten green pressboard doors were visible in the dim light. The red light indicating its occupancy was only glowing above one door.
I nervously entered a booth far enough away from the occupied one to feel private. After locking the door behind me, I looked around and found myself in a small room. In the middle of the floor a steel-folding chair sat opened in front of a flickering blank green TV screen. The chair made an awfully loud creaking noise as I sat down. Trying to be quiet since I knew there was someone else nearby, I cautiously fished my wallet out of my back pocket and pulled out a small wad of one-dollar bills that I'd been gathering through the day. As I fed the first bill into the slot, I noted a number of washers of varying sizes screwed into the floor-to-ceiling walls separating the booths. I guessed at their origin, though none appeared to allow any view in or out of my booth.
My heart raced and my cock surged as I began to flip through the 23-channels on the monitor. I learned quickly that a dollar only bought you about 3-minutes of video. Feeding additional bills in the machine, I settled back to watch. My cock came out soon enough. Then my jeans slipped down to my ankles, my bare ass pressed against the cold steel seat. I continued to flip quickly and repeatedly through the channels, until finally settling on a gay video. It was my first time to really watch this kind of scene outside of the free 8-second video teasers on some porn web sites. I turned the volume way down so that the stranger in the other booth wouldn't know what kind of film that had me edging towards an orgasm.
I cummed relatively quickly, at least quick enough that I still had money left in the machine. As the first shot of cum splashed across my belly, the metal chair in the other booth abruptly screeched across the floor, and I heard the door open. As I continued pulling on my cock, coaching out the last drops of cum. I heard footsteps in the out side my door, and then they were gone. With the handkerchief from my back pocket, I cleaned myself up. Then taking a deep breath, I left my booth with the videos still running.
Nervously I quickly exited the store without making eye contact with either the clerk or the lone middle-aged guy peering up from the magazine rack as I passed by. Was he the one in the other booth I wondered? I had no way of knowing if he was the one who'd cum moments before me, but the flush on my face, I'm sure, revealed the embarrassment and the exhilaration of my minute's-old ejaculation.
The next night found me back in the bookstore, nervously retracing my footsteps from the night before. Armed with a new stack of crisp one-dollar bills, I aimed for a booth in the corner. Again I chose a booth a couple doors away from the only occupied cubicle. Entering the corner booth, my eyes fixed on the missing washers on the wall. Small holes, mind you, not more than an inch or so in diameter. Nervous caution took hold of me, so I passed on to a couple other booths, before settling into one without holes.
Again, with my cock in hand and pants down around my ankles I scanned several of the monitor's offerings, both gay and straight oral films mostly. I heard footsteps come and go from the other booths, never realizing that I'd been in there for nearly 20-minutes and still without cumming. Feeding my last dollar into the machine, I knew that I'd either have to head home and finish later, or break the twenty in my wallet.
As the screen turned back to a blank and too-bright green, I pulled up my jeans and took the twenty out. Waiting a moment for my boner to recede just enough, I ventured into the bright fluorescence of the main store. Approaching the clerk, I held out the twenty and asked for some ones in exchange. "How many ones?" he inquired.
"What the hell. How 'bout all of 'em", I replied, trying too hard I'm sure to sound casual. While he took a couple minutes trying to find the crispest bills, I turned around to see several other people browsing the store, a couple of other single guys in the magazine section and 2-college age girls whispering and laughing by the dildos. I waited, trying to be patient, for the clerk to finish his count and let me disappear into the back again.
I glanced again at the corner booth, the one with the holes in the wall. After 20-minutes of video and self-flagellation, my curiosity pushed me to that door. No one was in the adjacent cubicle, so I entered, locked the door behind me, and fed in a few bucks. My pants unzipped. My cock returned comfortably to my hands as I settled in, once again, to a threesome video with one guy sucking the other's shaved and massive cock while the buxom woman plumbed the cocksucker's ass with large black strap-on.
Though momentarily lost in the video and my rhythmic stroking, I immediately tensed when I heard the door in the next booth close and lock. Shadows passed over the 2-small peepholes in the very thin wall. From where I sat, I couldn't see who was settling across the wall from me. I was so turned on; so nervous, so excited at that moment that I had to pull my hand off my cock lest I shoot right then and there.
I heard the zipper on the other side. The video soon found the same channel as the one in my booth. Slowly, and quietly, I turned my chair to face the hole. Right then, at that moment I wanted to be watched. I wanted to take this next step of showing my cock in real life, to a real person. Though the hole was only an inch or so around, I knew by the shadows when the guy bent over to peer through.
My cock never felt so hard, or as sensitive as it did right then. I slipped my jeans down below my knees exposing my cock, balls, and thighs to this stranger. I heard no sound from the other side. I could see nothing through the hole, but the light never changed. He never moved.
Excitedly, I stroked my cock for this hidden stranger, slowly at first, trying to allow him room around my fingers to see me. One hand pulled on my shaft while the other fingered my now very tight balls. I cummed quickly and suddenly, with little warning to me, or to the one watching me. The first shot flew up nearly to my nipple, leaving a dark wet stain across my gray t-shirt. I pulled my shirt up higher as 3 or 4-heavier pulses of cum landed on my belly. As the final dribbles of cum dripped from the edge of my tingling cock, I held it out forward for my anonymous neighbor to see. All was silent and still for a moment. I heard his chair back up across the floor, the sound of a zipper again, and then his door opened. From somewhere in the distance, I heard footsteps against the muffled background music of a different film playing for some other horny visitor. It was over.
After wiping myself off, I tried to clean the cum spot off my t-shirt. There was no way to hide it as I walked back through the store to the exit. As I left the place, a guy, perhaps a bit younger than myself, caught my eye, kind of nodded his head toward me with a slight grin. Was it a look of acknowledgement? I don't know. All I did know is that in the 15-minutes that it took to walk home, reminiscing on this first encounter, if you can call it that, I was half-hard again and had to unload a second time before falling asleep on the couch.
Over the next few months, I visited the bookstore 6, maybe 8-more times. Each time, I ventured to the corner booths, the only ones that seemed to regularly contain the peepholes. Sometimes different holes were covered, or new ones had appeared, but I never saw holes large enough to qualify as one of the glory holes I starting to read more about. With each succeeding visit, there were opportunities to watch and/or be watched, always anonymously and always without comment from the other side.
Curiously, I found being watched even more exciting than watching someone else. My cock seemed to tingle more. It became more sensitive when I exposed myself to another people. Invariably, I cummed too quickly, at least for my fullest enjoyment, rarely taking more than a couple minutes when I knew I had an audience. It seems my orgasms were even stronger and fuller when I was being watched through tiny holes in a dark booth than when I was fucking my wife.
As far as I could tell, my voyeurs were all guys. A couple of times I got to do the watching. The first guy that I watched had just finished watching me cum. He stood directly in front of the hole, pulled down his pants and stroked himself only inches from the hole. This was my first real view of another man's hard cock. It looked big, though perhaps in hindsight, it was about the size of my own. He was cut, and very, very hard. I kneaded my sagging, exhausted cock while kneeling on the floor peering through the peephole, a position not unlike I might experience were I sucking that cock. I saw little more than the head of his cock since he stood so close to the hole. Like me, he didn't last long with an audience. I watched, up close, but protected by the dark green paneling, as his cock spurted and oozed strings of cum on to the other side of the wall. After cumming, he quickly zipped and left. I waited until I knew he was gone, not sure I wanted to see who this stranger was.
Only once, that I know of, were females on the other side of the wall. I'd noticed them, at least I think it was them, when I came into the store and headed into the back. Two younger, Hispanic-looking girls, one small and thin with long black hair and almost unnoticeable breasts, the other a bigger girl in tight jeans and a tight top showing off some fairly ample cleavage. I'd not thought much about them and was going about my usual video and stroking routine in the corner cubicle, when the door opened next to me.
Although they never said anything to me, I heard their soft, definitely female voices through the hole. I turned my chair so that my cock and balls faced the two small holes about 10-inches apart in the cubicle divider. It got quiet on the other side as I started stroking myself for them. I closed my eyes, spread my legs, and leaned back, trying to recreate their faces from my brief glimpse of them as I'd passed through the part of the store earlier. I don't know how or why, but stroking for them, I lasted...and lasted...and lasted longer than I had for any of the guys that had watched me before.
It was only when I heard them talking softly between themselves, the walls muffling any chance of me understanding what they said, but as soon as I heard them my balls began to tighten, and the familiar urgency deep in my bowels appeared. I pointed the head of my cock at the hole and emptied myself in 3 or 4-short bursts. One of the girls laughed a little too loudly as the other tried to shush her. Like the guys, they too, quickly left their booth before I had the chance to cover up and see who they really were.
I hadn't been back to the bookstore in a few months, at least not since the encounter with the two girls. There just hadn't been any real opportunities to sneak away from real life. My fantasies were limited or expanded, depending on how one looks at it, to casual chatting and web-caming with other guys and the occasional female. Until last week, that is.
I suppose that the chat rooms, the web-cams, the voyeuristic visits to this bookstore were simply stepping stones along the path to last Friday. I really didn't anticipate anything more than what I'd already experienced. It's a small and quiet town here. The bookstore was never really busy. Probably never more than 5 maybe 6-others have ever been there at the same time as me. Fantasy, distant at that, is where I thought these thoughts and experiences would always lie.
With my wife off to another weekend class, I returned to the bookstore yet again, late on Friday night. As I walked downtown in the dark, I enjoyed the freedom of my dangling cock under my jeans as I'd chosen to leave the boxers at home. One less thing to worry about while I'm there, I'd supposed. The bookstore had its usual compliment of characters, 3-lonely looking men wandering through the video rentals, and one woman buying something at the counter. Accustomed and unembarrassed now, I went straight back through the beaded chain doorway to the video booth area, hardly noticing the faces of the other customers.
Taking up residence in `my' corner booth, I took note of the placement of the 3-small peepholes, surrounded by a small forest of washers of different sizes. Feeding the machine and dropping my pants to my ankles, my cock slowly but smoothly grew in my palm. A new selection of films was available since my last visit several months ago. Again, I settled on a threesome video, 2-men doing the usual things to a young blonde girl and to each other.
Perhaps 5-minutes into my viewing, the door to the next booth opened and then closed. I didn't hear the lock turn, but since there were no other occupied booths, I don't suppose it mattered. Very quickly, I saw the shadow of a face bend down and peer through the middle peephole. I turned my chair to give the face a better look. My balls were already feeling tight. My cock felt ready to spring. I removed my hand, not wanting to generate an eruption right then and there. I let my cock twitch and stand high while my neighbor peered in.
The shadow moved from the wall allowing a thin glimmer of green light to pass through. I heard a zipper and the rustle of pants on the other side, my cue, I guessed, to peek through for a look of my own. The cock on the other side was long and straight. Dark tufts of hair underneath a flat and hairless belly surrounded an already hard 7-inch shaft, tipped by a long plum-shaped cock head. My neighbor stood, slowly stroking himself for me for a couple minutes, then sat down and inched his chair close to the hole to watch me again.
Though I felt almost too close to the edge already, I gripped my cock and began a quick round of stroking for him. I had to squeeze the base of my balls several times to keep from cumming, somehow managing to hold off the inevitable.
The jingle of a key chain on the other side distracted me momentarily, but not as much as the squeaking, wrenching sound of a tightened bolt being loosened on the wall separating us. It took a moment to register what was happening, but soon enough one of the largest washers, right in the middle of the wall began to turn. It turned slowly, moving with the bolt that was spinning in the center. My heart jumped, realizing that very soon, there would be a much bigger hole between us. Confused, excited, curious, scared, too many other thoughts to properly describe here raced through my brain and my gut. Almost unconsciously, I placed two fingers on the spinning washer, permitting the bolt to turn, until it fell and clattered on the floor.
I held the washer in place for just a moment longer, still not sure what I was going to do. Slowly, I peeled the washer away from the wall, opening a hole perhaps 3-inches in diameter in the green wall. I leaned back in my chair, my cock slipping to half-hardness from nerves, I'm sure. I could see more of my neighbor now, though still dark. As my nerves raced and my cock twitched, his fingers came through and circled the edges of the new hole.
I'd read enough about glory holes by now to recognize this as a sign to slide your cock through. Christ, now it was happening, to me, right here and right now. I stood and moved closer to the wall, his 3-fingers waiting there on the bottom of the hole for my cock. With one final hesitation, I pressed my hips forward and guided my cock into the hole. His fingers guided it through to the other side, until my pubic hairs, my balls and my belly were pressed firmly against the cool, green pressboard.
My cock hung there for just a few moments, probably not as long as it seemed, until I felt his hand grip my shaft. Then as he slowly stroked my cock, his fingers caressing the head, pulling my foreskin up and back, and squeezing gently. I wanted to moan out loud, but I'd lost track of whether any of the neighboring booths were occupied or not. I bit my lip, closed my eyes, and let his fingers explore my cock.
Almost without me noticing, his fingers left my cock and were quickly replaced by his hot mouth. He didn't lick or tease my cock with his tongue, but swallowed it whole, taking his mouth all the way to the wall. He sucked me hard, twirling his tongue and lips over the entire length of my shaft and cock head. In moments, he built up a rhythm that had me rocking my hips into the wall, my thrusts meeting his mouth. In the background, I could hear the top button of my jeans clicking against the base of the wall with each thrust. God, it'd been so long since such a good mouth had swallowed my cock. I didn't want the feeling to end.
He sucked me for maybe 3 or 4-minutes before he withdrew his mouth from my cock. I wasn't sure why he'd stopped, until I felt the head of his cock touch the head of mine. I'll be damned if there wasn't a little spark of electricity that jolted through me when I felt them touch. Though I couldn't see, pressed against the wall as I was, the identity of what had contacted my cock was unmistakable.
I was ready now. I withdrew my cock from the tight hole in the wall, and watched as his followed through immediately after. In the dim light of the video screen, the head of his cock glistened. I moved to my knees, much as I had that very first time I'd watched someone else cum through the peephole. This strange new thing hovered now just inches from my face. Already looking solid and rock hard, it just barely fit through the hole, with not much room to spare.
With 2-fingers I reached out and nervously touched the damp tip. It felt oily feeling from pre-cum. My fingers traced the top of his cock to where the wall prevented any further exploration, then back underneath along the canal that would soon erupt. His cock twitched every time my fingers grazed the head.
I gripped this stranger's cock, and stroked it slowly at first, like he'd done to me. Gradually increasing my speed, I felt his shaft expand and contract. His skin felt so hot. The shaft so hard and bony, yet the skin like velvet.
"Suck it," I thought I heard whispered from beyond the wall. I was ready even before I heard, or imagined I heard those words. Gripping his cock and holding it as close to the wall as I could, I licked across the tip, taking in the drips of pre-cum that decorated his cock head. Almost without flavor other than a slight salty tinge, it felt like slippery oil on the tip of my tongue. From there, I ran my lips and tongue the full length of his cock, up one side, and back down the other. Sliding underneath, I repeated this motion on the underside of his cock, letting my mouth stop and hover with his cock head resting on my lower lip.
Apparently he wasn't pressed against the wall like I'd been, because he thrust forward suddenly, shoving his cock into my mouth. I swallowed him hungrily. I felt his cock sliding through my fingers as it pumped in and out of my wet mouth. I was amazed by how his hard cock so completely filled my mouth. Each stroke seemed to reach deeper before he pulled back to the very edge of my lips. It felt strange, yes, but also strangely natural, to let him fuck my mouth as he was doing.
In hindsight, I probably sensed his eruption before it was happened. I remember now how his cock instantly felt and felt even hotter in my mouth. My mind had mere nano-seconds to register that this big cock was swelling even bigger. When it happened, I swear I almost didn't feel the first shot because his cock was so deep in my mouth. It must've emptied right straight down my throat.
The second and succeeding shots come back to me in more detail. My mouth poised with his cock head just inside my lips, his next blast sprayed the inside of my mouth with his salty and sticky goo. I didn't have time to consider the taste before he shot again. My throat opened and I swallowed back as much as I could. He pulled from me suddenly, just as another full load burst from his cock, this time shooting across my lips and into my beard. He followed with several smaller twitches that had cum oozing and dripping over his cock and into my hands. As I stroked his now sticky and withering shaft, I licked up around the edges of his cock head, cleaning up the last remaining blobs of cum before this cock disappeared back through the hole.
As I was catching my breath, his fingers reappeared at the hole, signaling me to stick my cock back through the hole. But, almost unbeknownst to me, as he'd been cumming, without even being touched, I'd emptied my own load all over my jeans and the floor. My flaccid cock now hung drooping, wet, and satisfied. I fingered the streams of cum on my legs, curious whether it was his or mine. "I'm OK," I mumbled through our 3-inch opening, "I already cummed."
Without another word, he zipped up and left. As I sat there, bare assed on the metal chair, the money in the video ran out. When I ran my tongue around the insides of my mouth I could taste little pockets of strange juices seeped out of from the corners of my mouth. I could feel sticky spots on my beard where his cum was starting to dry. As I pulled up my jeans, I felt the stickiness of my own cum on my legs. Zipping up my pants, I left my booth and headed home.
On the walk home, my mind was awhirl. I finally did it, didn't I? I thought to myself as I walked. Yea, I finally did it.' I'm still not sure how I feel about it or how I should feel about it. But, yeah now I've done it. But is this the end of this path,' I asked myself, or yet another stepping-stone to something else? I guess I won't know, at least until the next time my wife leaves town.'
The end...